
Book 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT 



I \ 





COBB'S SPEAKER; 



CONTAINING AMPLE 






EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION 



PEOSE, POETRY, AND DIALOGUES, 

FROM MOST ESTEEMED NATIVE AND FOREIGN WEITEES. 
ALSO, 

AN" INTBODITCTION; 

CONTAINING THE PKINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION VERY 
FULLY EXEMPLIFIED BY ILLUSTRATIONS. 

DESIGNED FOR 
THE USE OF ACADEMIES AND THE HIGHER. CLASSES IN PUBLIC AND 




V 

BY LYMAN COBB, A.M. 



NEW YOEK: 
PUBLISHED BY J. C. RIKER, 

129 FULTON-STREET. 
185 2. 



o^ 



« 



1/ 



Entkrkd, BCCOrding to Act of Congress, in the your 1858, by 

i). ii . c B r it i: \ i) E \, 

In the Clerks Office of the District Court of the Southern District of New York. 



STEREOTYPED BT 

THOMAS B. SMM'H, 
216 William St., N. Y. 



PREFACE. 



The increasing popularity of " Cobb's Series of Readers, est Five 
Numbers," and the frequent solicitations of teachers and school offi- 
cers that a Speaker, or Sixth Keader, should be added to the series, 
containing a great number and variety of pieces for exercise in decla- 
mation and dialogues, have induced the author to compile the fol- 
lowing work. 

Beading and Speaking are, of all the departments of learning, the 
most important. The great body of the people of this country have 
become convinced of this ; and, as a natural consequence, they are 
giving increased attention to the subject of Reading and Elocution. 
It is, therefore, as would be expected, that books and treatises, on 
the subject of Elocution, have been greatly multiplied within the 
past few years. Hence, it has not been as necessary that very ex- 
tended rules or examples for exercise should be given in a work of 
this kind, more particularly as from the living teacher, almost en- 
tirely, the pupil must receive his instruction and correction by illus- 
trations of the teacher. 

In this view of the subject, the author has not given as many ex- 
amples as will be found in some other similar works ; yet, it is be- 
lieved that a sufficient number has been given, under each head, to 
answer every practical purpose, particularly as the variety and style 
of pieces in the body of the book are very extensive, to which, in 
practice and exercise, the several rules can be applied. Again ; it 
may be said of reading with more propriety than of any thing else, 
that, to do it right, it should be " done well." It is not the reading 
of page after page that will necessarily make a good reader in con- 
sequence of the amount which has been read ; but the manner in 
which those pages were read. Sometimes a sentence or paragraph 
may be profitably read or exercised on for fifteen or twenty minutes, 
or even half an hour, until every thing peculiar in it has become per- 
fectly understood and completely mastered by the pupil. This 



VI PREFACE. 

should be done on the principle that, if a scholar cm read l given 
sentence correctly, he can read any number of Benteooef of similar 
character correctly. No scholar should be permitted, the r e fo re, to 
paw from one sentence or paragraph to the next, until he has made 
himself thoroughly acquainted with every particular point and fea- 
ture in it. 

Many pieces have been inserted specially for declamation ; still, 
any one of the pieces can be spoken or repeated by ■ pnj.il selected 
for the purpose, regard being bad to his fitness; or, as to the defects 
in his reading or speaking, so that he may be required to speak a 
piece particularly adapted to remedy such defects. In this way 

should every pupil be e\erci-ed. It will he Well while any one ot 
the exercises is going on, for all of the other pupils of the dass to 
criticise the speaking or reading : each one having a pencil and piece 
of paper in hand to n-.te down what he considers defective or faulty 
in the reader or speaker. At the close of the exercise the pupiU can 
mention what they have noted down as wrong, the teacher approv- 
ing or disapproving of the criticisms. Sometimes it may he well, 
also, for the pupils to express their opinions as to the oorreotoi 
propriety of the criticism under consideration, giving their reasons, 
if time will permit. In this way, it is believed, that better readers 
and speakers can be made than by any other method, as the schol- 
ars, by this plan, become accustomed to read onderstandingry, hav- 
ing exercised their own judgment in regard to the criticism on each 
piece or paragraph, as the case may be. This practice has this ad- 
ditional advantage, also, that it strengthens and improves the 
judgment, and skill of the scholar, and fits him for criticism in other 
matters, either of art, science, or mechanics. In short, it may. with 
truth, be said, that a scholar who is a thorough critic in the art of 
reading or speaking, is fitted for criticism in any other branch of 
learning or to pursue usefully and with good ju-ospects of success 
any other study whatever in which maturity of judgment is neces- 
sary. 

In the preceding Reading Books of the Series, definitions of all the 
words, as they occur in the several Reading Lessons, have been given. 
This system, it is believed, will cause the scholar more thoroughly 
to understand the piece which he is to read, and, consequently, to 
read it with more interest than he would, if unacquainted with many 
of the important and prominent words contained in the Reading 
Lessons. In this way, too., the scholar will form the habit of in- 



PREFACE. vii 

quiring into or ascertaining the meaning of the words which com- 
pose the Lesson, or any piece or work for future reading. In this 
work, the definitions have been omitted, on the supposition that the 
scholars will have been sufficiently exercised and practised in the 
preceding Headers. 

It is fully believed, that exercises in the recitation of pieces of 
poetry will, in many respects, better improve the modulations and 
inflections of the voice than exercises in prose. This, however, is 
doubted by many. Still, as many excellent teachers have confidence 
in this plan, both from observation and experience, it will be well 
for each teacher, at least to make the experiment until he shall be 
convinced or not of its utility. 

The author, not wishing those teachers, who may adopt this work, 
to try every new system which may be offered for their considera- 
tion, would, however, respectfully recommend that every well ap- 
proved system which has been attested by practical and experienced 
teachers should have a fair trial at their hands. By this course, 
they will, at least, be able to form a correct opinion as to the com- 
parative importance or utility of each system, and to select that one 
which, all things considered, seems to them the best adapted to the 
purpose of making practical, thorough, and intelligent readers and 
public speakers. 

In our country, more than in any other, should the principles and 
rules of Elocution be known by every young man in the community. 
Here encouragement is given to learning, and to the general diffu- 
sion of knowledge. Much of the learning and influence of most 
young men is lost by their total neglect of the study of this branch 
of education. Many young men, well educated otherwise, find, on 
coming into society, greatly to their regret and mortification, that 
they are unable to utter, before a public audience, those thoughts 
which they "would gladly make known, and by a knowledge ofj 
which, in many instances, society would be greatly benefited. 

Language or speech being the highest attribute of man, its cultiva- 
tion in every country, but particularly under a free government like 
ours, is of the very highest importance, where so many aspire to 
places of usefulness and honorable distinction. The true interests 
of our country, every year, more and more increase this importance 
and present stronger reasons for preparing every young man of this 
republic to be able to meet any and every emergency which may 
arise. So many questions of vital importance to the existence of 



Vlll PREFACE. 

our social, religious, and civil institutions, and even to th< 
of the government itself, are being discussed and agitated all over 
our land, that the times require men who are able, in public assem- 
blies, with eloquence as well as patriotism, to defend the rights and 
true interests of our country. To the school-room, and to that 
alone, can we, with confidence and just hope, look for tin- youth 
who are to be the future men to advocate and sustain the purity of 
public morals, our civil institutions, and the all-important, in: 
of learning, science, and the arts, by which our nation nil bet! pros- 
pered, and thus far, has so gloriously flourished*. 

The pieces, both for speaking and reading, -which form the g 
portion of this work, have been selected with great care ami atten- 
tion, both with regard to their adaptedneas to the practice or 

cise in speaking and reading, and to their influence on the minds and 

tastes of pupils in enabling them to form a oorrectand high standard 
of excellence, both in subject ami in -tylc. Great care and attention 
have also been bestowed in the selection of the pieces as to their 
beneficial effects, in training the minds of the young to the observ- 
ance and practice of noble and elevated sentiments and practical 
virtues. 

With these views, the author, grateful for the extensive patronage 
bestowed on his past production-, presents the following work to the 
public, hopeful that this will be equally well received and h. 
beneficial effect upon the minds and interests, both present and fu- 
ture, of the rising generation. 

Lyman Cobb. 

New York, April 8, 1852. 

NOTE. 

The author, in compliance with the request of many teachers, has given 
the Spelling Lessons, in Nos. I. and II. without definitions, and has in- 
serted in their place, some additional Reading Lessons. These two Read- 
ers will, however, be printed in both forms, with and without definitions, 
that teachers may use which form they prefer. He has also added sev- 
eral pages of new Lessons to the Third, Fourth, and Fifth Readers, which 
it is believed will make these books more valuable. These three books, 
however, can be used with the former editions, as no change has been 
made in the old Lessons. 



CONTENTS. 



INTRODUCTION. 

Page 

Principles of Elocution ^ 15 

Chap. I. — Articulation 16 

Elementary Vowel Sounds, Explosion of 18 

Elementary Consonant Sounds, Vocal Consonants 19 

Aspirate Consonants, Correlatives, Explosion of El. Con. Sounds 20 

Combination of the Consonant Elements 21 

Faults and Difficulties in Articulation. 22 

First, Second, Third Fault or Difficulty 23 

Fourth, Fifth, Sixth Fault or Difficulty -. 23 

Examples for Miscellaneous Exercise 24 

Chap. II. — -Inflections 25 

Examples of the Rising and Falling Inflection 25 

Rules for the use of Inflections 26 

Rule I. — Interrogative Sentences 26 

II. — Interrogative Exclamations 27 

III. — Pause of Suspension 27 

IV. — Antithesis or Contrast * 27 

V. — Expressive of Tender Emotion 28 

VI. — Indirect Questions 28 

VII. — Authority, Surprise, &c 28 

VIII. — Commencing Series 28 

IX. — Concluding Series 29 

X. — Circumflex 29 

XL — Monotone 4 29 

Chap. III. — Modulation 30 

Pitch of the Voice 30 

Quantity 31 

Quality ■. 32 

Chap. IV. — Accent . ; 32 

Chap. V. — Emphasis 34 

Poetic Pauses or Manner of Reading Verse . . . . 35 

Rhetorical Pauses 37 

Chap. VI. — Gestures 38 

Representations of many of the Emotions, Passions, and Feel- 
ings of the Human Mind 39 

Devotion, Supplication 39 

Admiration, Joy, Narration 40 

Firmness, Argument, Authority 41 

Amazement, Disappointment, Aversion 42 

Despondency, Tenor, Distress 43 

Anger 44 

Particular Faults in Gestures 45 

1* 



CONTENTS. 



PROSE. 



Lesson Pago 

1. Enlightened Philanthropy. Extract from an Addreai delivered 

atRaleigb II P. Pm 17 

2. Instruction by Lectures B. P. Butler 49 

3. Educational Wants of the West. . .Rev. Hkmri Wa&d lii.i c hkr 62 

4. Rural Life in England luvr- 

6. A Winter Landscape in Russia R. K. J '<">■ 

7. Egyptian Pyramids R D, 

8. Visiting the Poor and Neglected Rav. < taviixi Dawn »',:; 

9. Claims of the Indians. — Southern Review Oou Dbai b 

11. Conquest of Mexico. Description of the Capital Pj 

12. Internal Structure of the Earth. Book of Nature //■/'/• 

13. The Prairies Jamks Ball 7/5 

14. The Mariner's Oompasfl ■■' ( WAttA 7* 

16. Intellect k W. Kmi ft* 

17. Speech of a Native Iroquois Da. I'i raa Witai 

18. The Turks at a Fire l>- Vert, Sh t, I,- 

19. Recollections of China Mas. Cajlolini II. I'-i 1 1 I 

20. Social Duties (I.B. Kmur.m.n 98 

22. History of England \faeatU§y '.'7 

23. Supply of Water in Constantinople Da. Dj kay 99 

24. Proverbs of Solomon BibU 1**1 

25. Early Genius William Laoosn 105 

27. Maternal Wisdom H. N. Hi DOOM 108 

28. Traits of Indian Character Irvino 1 10 

30. The Salt-mines of Europe. . . Hakikus Nkw Monthly Maoazim: 1 IS 

32. Mount Etna Clark J* Wondt r* of the World 1 20 

33. The Quantity of Matter in the Universe Dick 1 M 

34. Character and Condition of the Western Indians. Gi m 1_'"> 

36. The Desert of Zahara Buck* 1 80 

37. Chancellor Livingston Da. John W. Fran< i- 181 

38. A Prairie on Fire George W. Kendall 188 

39. Do Concluded Do 137 

40. The Natural Advantages of America William Kknt 140 

41. A well cultivated Mind forms an essential Ingredient of Female 

Education Rev. Dr. Gardiner Si-rim; 148 

42. Passing through an Iceberg Arctic Expedition 145 

43. Interview of Cortes and Montezuma Prescott 148 

45. A Perilous Situation Audubon ] 54 

46. The Creator to be Remembered in Youth Bible 158 

47. St. Peter's Church at Rome Headley 159 

48. Tribute to the New England Colonists Burke 162 

49. The Chippewa Chiefs and General Taylor National Era 163 

51. Our Wondrous Atmosphere Quarterly Review 166 

52. Education in Prussia Rochester Gem 108 

53. A Pilgrimage to the Cradle of American Liberty. .B.J. Lobbing 170 

55. The Goodness of Charity Bible 176 

56. Governments of Will, and Governments of Law Wayland 177 

57. The National Character. Southern Review. . .General Hayne 179 

58. The Country Church Irving 180 

60. Character of the Puritans Macaulay 186 

61. Exploring Expedition to the Rocky Mountains. . .Capt. Fremont 188 
63. Washington in Retirement Spabks 194 



CONTENTS. XI 

Lesson Page 

64. The Former and Present Condition of the State of N. Y. . Bancroft 19G 

65. Oration on the Death of General Washington . Rev. Dr. J. M. Mason 198 

66. The Rights of Women Mrs. Sigourney 200 

67. Speech in Favor of permitting the British Refugees to return to 

the United States Patrick Henry 202 

69. Derbyshire (England) Caverns Anonymous 205 

70. Physical and Moral Greatness of America Phillips 207 

72. Whaling off the Cape of Good Hope .. Dickens' Household Words 210 

. 73. Speech in the Senate of the United States in Relation to South 

Carolina Hayne 214 

74. Speech in Reply to the preceding Webster 215 

76. Education — Extract from an Address at Amherst. . . .Humphrey 218 

77. The lone Indian Miss Francis 219 

78. Abbotsford. — First Visit to Europe Andrew Dickinson 221 

79. Debt due to the Soldiers of the Revolution Peleg Sprague 224 

82. Paul's Defence before King Agrippa Bible 229 

83. Conflict with an ' Elephant '. Gumming 231 

84. Proofs of the Rotundity of the Earth Malte-Brun 235 

85. The Ruins of Time Milford Bard 238 

87. Character of the Irish Patriots of 1798 S. D. Langtree 241 

88. The Advantages of a Taste for the Beauties of Nature. .Percival 243 

89. Progress of Society Dr. Channing 245 

91. North American Indians Joseph Story 248 

92. Propelling Powers employed by Man ; Ewbank 251 

95. Adams and Napoleon William H. Seward 258 

96. Effects of a Dissolution of the Union Hamilton 261 

97. Patriotism and Eloquence of John Adams Webster 263 

98. Speechof the Scythian Ambassadors to Alexander Quintus Curtius 269 

100. Address at the Opening of the Newark Library Associa- 

tion Rev. Samuel I. Prime 274 

101. Mr. Prime's Address, Concluded Do 278 

102. Rural Funerals Irving 280 

103. Sympathy Wrights Casket 282 

104. Immorality of Large Cities Rev. Orville Dewey 283 

105. Curious Social Habits of the Osages Cherokee Advocate 286 

106. Intemperance Rev. Dr. Lyman Beechkr 287 

108. The Deserted Children Cincinnati Paper 292 

109. Observance of the Sabbath Rev. Dr. Gardiner Spring 294 

110. Extract from an Election Discourse at Montpelier . Rev. Dr. Fisk 296 

112. Instability of Life Job. Bible 301 

113. Comets. Information for the People 302 

114. Greatness of the United States Hunt's Merchant's Mag. 305 

116. Old Wyoming Tales of the Revolution 307 

118. The Settlement of New England Webster 313 

120. Capillary Attraction Library of Useful Knowledge 317 

121. Mistakes in Personal Identity Diesis" Household Words 319 

122. Formation of Character — Address at Dickinson College. . . .How 321 

124. The Diving Bell Dr. Lardner 327 

126. Books for the Fire Southey 332 

128. Scenes in the Alps Note Book of an American Lady 335 

129. Pilgrim's Progress Macaulay 336 

130. Specific Gravities Dr. Lardner 339 

132. Hot Springs of Iceland Henderson 345 

133. Do.... Concluded Do.... 347 

134. Invasion of Switzerland by the French, , Sydney Smith 350 



Xll CONTENTS. 

Lesson Pfcfl 

135. A Turkish Bath Albert Smith 

138. Unwritten Music N. P. VflUW 

196. David's Lamentation for Saul and Jonathan 

140. The Pleasures of Old Age Diary of Lady WilUmgho% 

. . Of Delays Lord 

142. Eulogy on Chancellor Livingston and R. Fulton. Di Wm Ol 
14;^. Genius and its Rewards M 

145. Western Prairies LtTKBAfcl Kmi 

146. Character of Tecnmseh 8n on I V\ 1 

148. The Missouri River T. FLINT'S HlBTOM OF TB* W] 

149. Sources of Mi-en, in the Pr< sent World Th&ma* Dick 383 

150. Speech on the Bill for the Relief of the Widow of General Har- 

rison 

161. Immense Natural Bee hive I 

154. Westminster Abbey 

155. The Rains of Ohi ('hen 15. M. ffoBMAl 

157. Cooking on Mount Vesurios. . . .Hkadlx* i aon \i\i.\ 

159. The Handsome and Deformed Leg Da. FaamttU 

160 My Mother's Room Sm raaaM Churchman 401 

161. Duty of Educating the Poor GaazKWooo vn 

162. Of Prudence in Reproving BibL 

163. Romance of the Nineteenth Century B 407 

164. Duties of Parents I. Abbott 41<) 

165. The Fourteenth Congress R H. Wu.i.l 41 1 

167. On Honesty— Letter to a Bon I). 1). T. L 4l»; 

168. Encounter frith an [oeb< rat. . B m:i-i.u 'a Ni a Monthly M.v.azinl 418 

169. Addre-s to Lafayette at his Departure .J. Q. Ad 

170. Reply to the Preceding Laj 

P72. Advancement of Society C. Mason 129 

174. American Enterprise Hunt's Mkrohakt's Machine 482 

175. The Good Samaritan Bibli 

178. Passage across the Andes Hi a Noras 1-7 

181. Character of Mr. Pitt Rob* rise* 1 IS 

1 82. Life of a Naturalist J. J. A 

183. Speech before Lord Norbury, Dublin Robe, 

188. The Lily of the Mountain Literary Emporium 469 

189. How Pain can be a Cause of Delight Bwrht 468 

190. Division of Labor Adam Smith 1 63 

192. Extract from Washington's Farewell Address 467 

193. The Mammoth Cave of Kentucky . Concklin's New River Guide 470 

197. Genius Fanny Forrester 47'J 

198. Evening Library of Entertaining Knowledge 48*2 

200. The Blind Preacher Wiai 

201. Speech of Brutus on the Death of Cesar Shak*pear>, 

210. Speech of Antony over the Dead Body of Cesar Do.. . . 62 1 

216. The Training of the Intellect D. H. Cruttenden 

v / 220. Hamilton and Jay Dr. F. L. Hawk- 

222. Grecian and Roman Eloquence J. Q. Adams 5 i '.* 

227. Kossuth's Speech at Philadelphia 

229. Eulogy on Adams and Jefferson Edward Everri 

231. The Drunkard and his Bottle S. W. Srroa 

232. Awake Zion. — Isaiah lii Bib/, 

235. Tribute to Washington W. H. Harrison 

236. Speech of Hannibal to his Soldiers Livy 574 



CONTENTS. Xlll 



POETRY. 

Lesson Page 

5. Battle with Life Dickens' Household Words 59 

10. To the Susquehanna, on its Junction with the Lackawan- 
na .' Mrs. Sigourney 6*7 

15. The Crowded Street W. C. Bryant 80 

21. On Seeing a Beautiful Boy at Play N. P. Willis 95 

26. Aspirations of Youth .Montgomery 107 

29. Home for the Friendless N. P. Willis 1 14 

31. Speak Boldly Wm. Oland Bourne 119 

35. Excelsior Longfellow 128 

44. The Bible Rev. Ralph Hoyt 152 

50. " Oh Mother, would the Power were mine". .Margaret Davidson 165 

54. " Let not your Heart be troubled" Jessie Glenn 175 

59. The Hour of Death Mrs. Hemans 185 

62. Brain Work and Hand Work Charles Street 1 92 

63. The Grave of Washington S. M. Pike 195 

68. Graves of the Poor Gray 203 

71. The Eagle and the Swan From the German 208 

75. The Traveller at the Red Sea Miss H. F. Gould 217 

80. The Chieftain's Daughter George P. Morris 227 

81. " Search the Scriptures" 228 

86. A Winter's Night in the Wilderness Thomas Buchanan Read 239 

90. Battle of Warsaw Campbell 247 

93. The Wreck Mrs. Hemans 255 

94. The Winds Miss H. F. Gould 257 

99. A Mother's Love < Montgomery 271 

107. The Rail- way Dublin University Magazine 290 

111. Father Mathew giving the Temperance Pledge. .Mrs. Sigourney 299 

115. Battle of Hohenlinden Campbell 306 

117. The Prisoner's Address to his Mother CM. 311- 

119. The Return of Spring Bayard Taylor 316 

123. Apostrophe to Mont Blanc Coleridge 324 

125. The Departed Park Benjamin 331 

127. The Village Blacksmith Longfellow 333 

131. Woodman, Spare that Tree George P. Morris 344 

136. Summer Evening W. C. Bryant 355 

137. Autumn... N. E. Magazine 357 

141. The Lament of the Sightless Jessie Glenn 362 

144. The Home -for the Friendless Mrs. F. S. Osgood 369 

147. The Death of Napoleon Isaac McClelland, Junr. 376 

152. The Evening Wind W. C. Bryant 388 

153. The Indian Hunter Eliza Cook 389 

156. The Star of Bethlehem H. K. White 397 

158. To Young Students Mrs. E. C. Embury 398 

166. The Last Man Campbell 414 

171. " Blessed are they that Mourn" W. C. Bryant 428 

173. " Live them down" Cincinnati Expositor 431 

176. Address to the Condor Mrs. Ellett 434 

177. New England J. G. Percival 435 

179. Lake Wyalusing William H. C. Hosmer 439 

180. Extract from " Messiah" Pope 44] 

184. Red Jacket, the Indian Chief F. G. Halleck 453 

185. A Son? for Youth Barstow 455 



Xiv CONTEJ 



N iagara Falls Beainkeh 456 

187. 1 be Family Meeting (haw Si-ham 

191. Jephthab's Daughter V. P. Wiu 

194. l\ie!i/.i> Address to the Romans Mim M it turd 475 

Horning in Spring Ge<»r<,e D. 1'kkmi 

196. The Dying Chriatuo to his Boul p* 478 

..'ration Mrs. I 

902. Marco Bozzari- F. G. Hallk k 4-^ 

Elijah's Interview <// 5<"» 

205. Gentleness Mrt. I/etna 

I 

214. The Harvey Hymn Mi. 

•JIT. Memory Willi- Qatumb Clabk §40 

■d I-v\> M< LkLLA.NH. Jl NE. 550 

Mes. L. H. Cmvrnam 

Mother's Gift.— The Bible W. V 

234. '■ Forgive" Bishop fft ' 

-anzas R. H. Wilde 570 



DIALOGU1 

203. Spirit of '76. A Temperance Dialogue EL W. Set 

: reliant of Venice Skwktpm T 

907. Alexander the Great and a Robber Dr. Atibm 514 

rutus and Cassius r« 516 

211. Fill of Cardinal Wolsey S 

212. Pizarro and Gomez Kotzebue 52y 

213. Rolla and Alonzo Do. . 

215. Self-int. r< -t — Derby and Scrapewell 

218. Col. Rhren end Sir "Harry 541 

219. Lovegold and James Fin m- 

221. Charles II. and William Penn Fxmro M Pi 

be ColonisCfl Dr. Aiken. 552 

226. Scene from Virginius / & Kium 

230. Scene from the Tragedy of Cataline Rev. G. Croly 563 

233. Genuine Friendship and Magnanimity. — Pythias, Damon. Dio- 

nvsius Ftnelon 570 



INTRODUCTION. 



PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 

As tue Principles of Elocution form the basis of a depart- 
ment of ornamental as well as practical education, in which the 
art of speaking and reading is to be attained and pursued in ac- 
cordance with a certain established standard of elegance, a thor- 
ough and practical acquaintance with these Principles can not be 
too highly valued or appreciated by every person, who either 
hopes or wishes to become a correct or elegant speaker or reader ; 
and they should, therefore, receive his first attention. In giving 
instruction in this art, two objects should be constantly kept in 
view : good conversational speech ; and the power of making for- 
mal addresses, and reading aloud with ease and effect. In our 
own country, where the advantages of education are open to all, 
and where so many persons are also liable to be called on to speak 
in public, a practical knowledge of these Principles is of inestimable 
value, not only to the professedly learned, but even to persons in 
the ordinary or common avocations of life. Every person having 
this knowledge can render more effective what he utters, either in 
speaking or reading ; and, at the same time, it not only promotes 
an easy and graceful delivery, but also enables him to rivet or 
enchain the attention of the hearer. The human voice, like every 
other faculty, is susceptible of very great improvement, by proper 
culture and discipline. There is also this advantage, that, by a 
proper exercise of the Principles of Elocution, the health and vigor 



XVI INTRODUCTION. 

of the vocal organs are greatly promoted. To neglect, therefore, 
the cultivation and improvement of the human voice, and the lull 
development of its powers, is, to say the least of it, very censurable 
on the part of those, who have the management and control of 
elementary instruction. Much of this instruction must he given 
by the living instructer; still, some rules and principle! will be 
very useful. Some of tkese kave been treated of in the Beqnel or 
Fourth Reader, and in the North American or Fifth Reader, in 
this work they are more extended and more practically illustrated. 

ELOCUTION 
is properly divided into, and should be considered under, the fol- 
lowing heads : 

I. — Articulation. 

II. — Inflections. 
III. — Modulation. 
IV. — Accent. 

V. — Emphasis. 
VI. — Gestures. 



CHAPTER I. 

articulation. 

Articulation comprehends distinctness of utterance of the dif- 
ferent sounds of the language, including Enunciation and Pro- 
nunciation. 

Proper and correct articulation is the most important exercise 
of the voice and of the organs of speech. Any public speaker 
who possesses only a moderate voice, if he articulate correctly, will 
be better understood, and heard with greater pleasure, than one 
who speaks in a loud and vociferous manner without judgment. 
In just articulation the words are not to be hurried over, or pre- 
cipitated syllable over syllable, or, as it were, melted together into 



ARTICULATION. XV11 

a mass of confusion ; but, they should be delivered from the lips, 
perfectly finished, distinct, sharp, in due succession, and of due 
weight. The difficulty of acquiring a correct articulation being 
unusually great in the EDglish language, the foundation should 
be laid at an early age, when the organs are most pliable and 
tractable ; for, it will be found, that the habit of defective and in- 
distinct articulation is generally contracted in the first stages of 
the learner's progress, and arises either from indolence, which 
causes a drawling or indistinct utterance ; or, from too great 
haste, which leads to the running of words together, or to clipping 
them by dropping unaccented words and final consonants. Habits 
of this kind, if permitted, very soon become so inveterate that it is 
almost impossible, even with the most unremitting attention on 
the part both of teacher and pupil, to correct them. 

In order to give a thorough and correct articulation, or to cor- 
rect a monotonous style of reading and speaking which may have 
been formed at an early age, the pupil should first practise a 
thoroughly distinct and easy enunciation of the elemental sounds 
of the language : then enunciate these sounds in their combination 
into words so as to become perfectly familiar with the appearance 
of words, and be able to call their names readily, at sight. To 
accomplish all that is desirable much exercise is necessary. The 
learner should practise perseveringly upon these elementary sounds 
until he has acquired a complete control of his organs of speech. 
This exercise is of the greatest importance, as, in addition to the 
formation of correct habits of articulation, it imparts great strength 
and efficiency to the voice, which can not be as effectually acquired 
in any other way. A speaker or reader, too, who is able fully 
and clearly to enunciate all these sounds, will be listened to by an 
audience with greater pleasure, interest, and attention. This ac- 
quisition, also, enables any one readily to distinguish between the 
educated and uneducated, as the latter are especially wanting in 
propriety, clearness, grace, and ease of utterance. 

The vowels being the most prominent elements of words, and 
also being the most easily uttered, they are here made to consti- 
tute the first lesson. 



xvm 



INTRODUCTION. 



ELEMENTARY VOWEL SOUNDS. 



Long a, as heard in 

Flat a, . . 

Broad a long, 

Do. represented by o, 

Broad a short, 

Do. represented by o, 

Short a, . , 

Long e, . 

Short e, . . 



Long i, 
Short i, 

Long o, 



Slender o, 
Long u, . 
Short u, . 
Obtuse u, 
Oi a.id oy, 
Ou, and ow, 



hate, rain, ray, rein, break. 

mar. ah, daunt, heart, gu#rd. 

call, war, quart, caught, raw, broad, sought. 

for, nor, corner. 

what, want, quarrel. 

hot, morrow, coroner. " 

hat, man, commercial, platcL 

he. reel, neat, cither, grieve, key, people, capr/ce. 

men, tread, friend, heifer, jeopud, gu^ss, again, says, 
many, b//ry. 

vine, lie, height, guise, dry, buy, rye, aisle. 

hit, sieve, surfeit, guilt, fountain, marriage, hymn, 
been, busy. 

no, fold, floor, foam, foe, though, follow, yeoman, bu- 
reau. 

prove, room, shoe, group, rule, true, fruit, brew. 

m»te, glue, sluice, feud, beauty, adieu, view, Hew. 

cut, fur, her, bird, love, flood, does. 

full, wolf, good, should. 

toil, joy. 

shout, bower. 



EXPLOSION OF THE ELEMENTARY VOWEL SOUNDS. 

Any one of the preceding elements can be uttered with great 
quickness and force, so as to give a distinct expression of its sound. 
The scholar should be required to explode from the throat, every 
one of the elements in the preceding table, with the greatest de- 
gree of quickness and force, until he is able to do it with accuracy 
and ease. Each sound should first be made slowly in a very low 
whisper, increasing it gradually in force to the full extent of the 
whispering voice. Afterward the exercise may be increased in 
quickness. Then, in like manner, the different sounds may each 
be vocally expressed, increasing gradually from soft or low to loud 
and quick. Great care should be taken to avoid all aspiration, that 
the sound of the vowel only should be heard. In these and all 
other elocutionary exercises, the body should be in an erect and 
easy posture. The shoulders, when it can be done with ease and 



ARTICULATION. 



XIX 



gracefulness, should also be thrown gently back. It will be well, 
after the scholar has been thoroughly exercised in exploding the 
sounds of the preceding table, to explode all the vowel elements 
in one sentence of every lesson which he reads. 



ELEMENTARY CONSONANT SOUNDS. 

The Consonant elements are susceptible of a greater or less 
degree of explosive force. 



b as heard in globe. 



d 


cc 


dead. 


t 


<( 


tin. 


f 


(< 


field. 


V 


(c 


vine. 


g 


<( 


bag-. 


w 


it 


wise. why. 


h 


(< 


Aand. 


y 


H 


year. 


J 


a 


>r, age. 


z 


M 


^eal, as. 


k 


« 


kid, cup, cAasm. 


ng 


" 


vfing. 


1 


a 


Zate. 


sh 


(( 


ship, machine. 


m 


u 


maim. 


ch 


(( 


church. 


n 


a 


nine. 


th 


C( 


thin, both. 


P 


u 


pipe. 


th 


<< 


thou, then. 


r (rough) 


ran. 


zh 


« 


seizure, osier. 


r (smooth) 


bard, bar. 


wh 


it 


what, when. 



s as heard in sat, nice. 



The Consonant elements are naturally divided into two classes : 
the Vocal, and the Aspirate. The Vocal Consonants are or 
may be uttered in a suppressed or under tone. The Aspirate 
Consonants are simple emissions of the breath, or modified breath- 
ings. A portion of the consonant elements, being mutually re- 
lated, are properly called Correlatives : one being an aspirate ; the 
other a vocal ; as pound and found. 



VOCAL CONSONANTS. 



r (rough) 



Z>at. 


r (smooth) 


in far. 


dark. 


V 




" vice. 


gate. 


w 




" was. 


Jar, page. 


y 




" yon. 


Zand. 


z 




" .s-one, prose. 


mark. 


th 




" that. 


wight. 


ng 




" &nng. 


run. 


zh 




" a^ure, brasier. 



XX 



INTRODUCTION. 



A8PI 


RATE CO 


NSONANTS. 






CORRELATIVES. 


f 


in 


/arm. 


f 


in 


/lie 


V 


in rile. 


h 


U 


hall 


k 


in 


feeen 


g 


in £ear. 


k 


" 


key, cat, ache. 


P 


in 


;>ane 


b 


in b&ne. 


P 


N 


pme. 


s 


in 


seal 


z 


in xreal. 


8 


II 


sink. 


t 


in 


due 


d 


in •'/in.-. 


t 


U 


tone. 


th 


in 


(horn 


th 


in Men. 


ch 


(( 


chip. 


sh 


in 


shine 


zh 


in treasure. 


■h 


U 


sheep. 


ch 


in 


cAat 


J 


in j/'ail. 


th 


« 


thick. 













EXPLOSION OF THE ELEMENTARY CONSONANT 80UND8. 

As many syllables are composed chiefly of consonant sounds ; 
and, as articulation is moiv frequently defective from an indistinct 
or imperfect enunciation or explosion of these consonant sounds, it 
is of the greatest importance that the scholar should become per- 
fectly familiar with them. They can not, it is true, be exploded 
with the same force which vowel sounds admit, yet their sounds 
can be prolonged so as to give them great distinctness. A few 
attempts will prove this. Every one should be practised upon 
until the scholar can give the sound distinctly and forcibly. Let 
him begin with ba, and in sounding or exploding it, let the voice 
be quickly suspended before it passes to the vowel. And so on. 
With this practice, and in no other way, will the pupil be able to 
utter distinctly such combinations as the following : dri/tast, pass- 
ed, suffketh, heasts, se&rchedst, &c. He who can enunciate or 
explode the consonants with clearness, precision, and accuracy, 
will, when speaking or reading to a large audience, be heard and 
understood, though his voice be weak and feeble ; while he who 
slurs or mumbles them will not be distinctly heard, though, with 
a strong voice, he should be loud and vociferous. As suggested 
in relation to the vowel elements, it will be well, after the scholar 
has been thoroughly exercised in exploding the sounds of the pre- 
ceding table, to explode all the consonants in one sentence of every 
piece which he reads. As a second step, however, the following 
and similar combinations of consonants should be exploded : 



ARTICULATION. XXI 

bl, gl, pi, br, fr, gr, pr, rb, rd, rm, sk, sp, st, spl, str, sts, dst, shr, sld, 
ftb, fths, rnid, blst, rndst, pts, rdst, bl'dst, nkl, gl'dst, zl'd'st, ngd, spdst, 
ldst, nths, ngl'd'st, &c. 

Then words containing tbem should be pronounced or exploded : blasts, 
griefs, pleasest, breadths, shroud, shifts, Christ's, drifts, whelms, depths, 
wharfs, fifths, truths, strength, rasps, spheres, shrieks, shrinks, twelfth, 
scythes, prisms, nymphs, feasts, thrusts, wept, slept, expects, arm'st, 
fill'dst, rasp'dst, triumph'd, threat'n'dst, assist'st, tippl'st, manuscripts, 
fifteenth, black'n'dst, strength'n'dst, twelfths, singl'dst, twinkl'dst, pos- 
sess'st, whelm'dst, hundredth, thousandth, &c. 

SENTENCES 

In which the Combinations of the Consonant Elements are 
given for the Exercise of the scholar. 

They were overwMmed amidst the waves. 
They cultivated plants, shrubs, trees. < 

Though the Sunders roared, yet thou look'd'st from thy throne, and 
laugh'd'st at the storm. 
His texts were always selected with great care. 
Thou wrong' dst thyself and me. 
When Ajaz strives some rocA's \ast weight to throw. 
The line too labors and the words move slow. 
The sZeepy sluggard sits slumberbig sile'/itly. 
Thou didst hear their most earnest entreaties. 
He bought four yards and three eights. 
He came too late to attend the lecture. 
The prisoner was dragged to prison. 
Their limbs were much strengthened by crercise. 
The cricket "kept creeping across the crevices. 
Her rough and rugged rocAs that rear 
TAeir Aoary Aeads Aigk in the air. 
Bursting their bonds, they sprang upon the foe. 
Why wouldst thou stay while many a wAisperer whiles away his time. 
The strong Granger struggled straight forward through the stream. 
How hard he Aastes to have his Aorses Aarnessed. 
He that haXeth reproof shall die. 
Grievous words stir up anger. 
He strangled and gasped for brea^A. 
Thrilled a rich peal triumphantly around. 
Thou begg'dst for mercy. 

Forth rushed the wandering corners girt with flames. 
Thou troubV dst thy father's friends. 



XX11 INTRODUCTION. 

FAULTS AND DIFFICULTIES IN ARTICULATION. 

1. A quite common fault or difficulty is tluit of ' su ppn 

or dropping the final consonants, or of not sounding Litem dis- 
tinctly. 

EXAMPLES. 
\ He regarded not the wort's opinion. 
\ He regarded not the world's opinion. 
{ He was boun' han' an' foot an' kep' quiet. 
\ He was bound hand and foot and kcp/ quiet. 

< They thrus' their sickles into tlie halves'. 
I They thrus/ their sickles into the harvest. 
{ Creepin' things an' beas' were foun' tliere. 

( Creeping things and beasts were found there. 
i He ate them mornin', an' noon, an' evenin'. 
) He ate them morning*, and noon, and evening. 

2. Another fatdt is that of blending the end of one word 
with the beginning of the following one. 

EXAMPLES. 

< Gimme the pen an dink. 
\ Gire me the pen and ink. 

^ They did not believe that he was an iceman. 

I They did not believe that he was a nice man. 

( He died in great error. 

( He died in great terror. 

{ They both saw an arrow head. 

( They both saw a narrow head. 

t He did believe that such an ocean existed. 

I He did believe that such a notion existed. 

< This worZ dis full of deception. 
I This world is full of deception. 
j Han dim his hat. 

( Hand Aim his hat. 
$ He gave g\f sto men. 
I He gave gifts to men. 
( He gavem to me. 
I He gave them to me. 

3. Another difficulty in articulation often occurs from the 
immediate succession of similar sounds. 

EXAMPLES. 

The mast stood the severest storm well. 
Which lasts rill morning. 



ARTICULATION. 



XX111 



The magistrates sought to arrest him. 

Han^ down the books. 

The hoy hates study. 

The great error remains. 

It was a large blacl cannon. 

It was given to the Indian who whooped. 

4. Another fault or difficulty is that of dropping or indis- 
tinctly sounding the unaccented vowels. 







EXAMPLES. 






reg'lar 


for 


reg-u-lar. 


par-tic'lar 


for 


par-tic-u-lar. 


crock'ry 


" 


crock-er-y. 


gran'ry 


» 


gran-a-ry. 


av'rice 


<( 


av-a-rice. 


his'try 


(C 


his-tor-y. 


min'ral 


a 


min-er-al. 


mem'ry 


u 


mem-or-y. 


iv'ry 


« 


i-vor-y. 


comp'ny 


(( 


com-pa-ny. 


vet'ran 


<( 


vet-er-an. 


pop'lar 


(t 


pop-u-lar. 


gen'rous 


« 


gen-er-ous 


cer-t'n 


i( 


cer-tain. 


rob'ry 


<t 


rob-ber-y. 


rev'rend 


(I 


rev-er-end. 



5. Another fault is that of omitting or incorrectly pro- 
nouncing a tvhole syllable. 



nom-i-tive 


for nom-i-na-tive. 


di-mond for di-a-mond. 


tol-er ble 


" tol-er-a-ble. 


hal-but " hal-i-but. 


sal-ry 


" sal-a-ry. 


cov-nant " cov-e-nant. 


but-nut 


" but-ter-nut. 


het-ro-ge-nous " het-e-ro-ge-ne-ous 


em-rald 


" em-er-ald. 


laud-num " laud-a-num 



6. Another fault is that of incorrectly & 
cented vowels. 



the unac- 



ad-nmr-al for ad-mi-ral. 



de-s%nt 

ed-e-cate 

sys-tim 

fel-lwr 

win-dwr 

ex-ter-md 

Feb-er-a-ry 

be-ywnd 



de-cent. 

ed-u-cate. 

sys-tem. 

fel-low. 

win-dow. 

ex-ter-nal. 

Feb-ru-a-ry. 

be-yond. 



hun-d%rd 

rep-e-ta-tion 

cir-ke-lwr 

tuT-rub-h\e 

smg-guv-lur 

ad-er-a-tion 

wv-ent 

Jm-u-a-ry 



for 



hun-dred. 

rep-u-ta-tion. 

cir-cu-lar. 

ter-ri-ble. 

sin-gu-lar. 

ad-o-ra-tion. 

e-vent. 

Jan-u-a-ry. 



XXIV INTRODUCTION. 

EXAMPLES FOR MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES UNDER THE SIX 
PRECEDING HEADS. 

He wept though he had a thousand friends by His aide. 

If he should not find the diamond lie trusts lie may find a ten pound 
note. 

While the ship was running- very last the masts were cast down. 

He kept on in his vain attempts. 

His commands were they should not touch the birds' nests. 

The thunder hursts and the tempes/s rage. 

The shouts sounded long and loud. 

He had contracted a had habit. 

//ad ho heard to his friend's advice he would not Aavc suffered. 

He went over the mountain. 

He was disturbed by their wrangling. 

Be ye wise as serpents, and harmless as doves. 

He appeared to enjoy considerable contentment. 

Their calculation is incorrect. 

Health, strength, and youth defied his power. 

War does its thousands slay. 

From depths mi&nown, unsearchable, ^rofouwd. 

He can sustain neither position. 

All the acts of the government were most stringent. 

Hi>- ftp* grew restless, and his smile was curled. 

His crime moved me. His cry moved me. 

The orightes^ still the fleetcs/. 

The swift dark whirlwind that \xproots the woods. 

The venerable man's wianuscri^d was miserably bad as to its literary meri/s. 

God is the author of all things visible and invisible. 

Stretched at length he shivered and shrunk. 

She trusts too much to servants, yet expects to hat>e her work well done. 

The colony formed a company where great harmony and fellowship 
existed. 

He was certainly informed of their particular request 

He wishes to have his ac^s stand on their own merit. 

By others' fau^s, wise men correct ^.eir own. 

He had an object to gain, still he slep£ the whole evening. 
Around him fall 

Dread powers, dominions, hos^s, and kingly tarones. 



INFLECTIONS. XXV 

CHAPTER II. 

INFLECTIONS. 

Inflections are slides, bends, or turns of the voice, either up- 
ward or downward, from the level of a sentence, in expressing the 
thoughts or emotions of the mind. Of these there are two. One 
is called the upward or rising inflection : the other, the down- 
ward or falling inflection. 

The rising Inflection is an upward slide or turn of the voice, 
which is marked or designated by the acute accent, thus, ( ' ). 
In this case, as the voice ends higher than it begins, the meaning 
of the sentence is generally suspended ; as, Is he rich' ? Will 
you go' ? The falling Inflection is a downward slide or turn of 
the voice, in which the voice ends lower than it begins, and is 
marked by the grave accent, thus, ( N ). As, He is poor\ He 
will go\ 

Sometimes both the rising and falling unite on or are given to the 
same syllable. This is called the Circumflex or "Wave. When 
the circumflex commences with the falling and ends with the 
rising inflection, it is called the rising circumflex, and is marked 
thus, ( u ). When it commences with the rising and ends with 
the falling inflection, it is called the falling circumflex, and is 
marked thus, ( a ). # 

When several syllables are uttered in succession with uniformity 
of sound, the voice having neither an upward or downward slide, 
but keeping comparatively level, it is called the Monotone, and is 
marked thus, (_- ). 

EXAMPLES 

In which the first member of the sentence has the rising, and 
the second member the falling inflection. 

Did he act honestly', or dishonestly* 1 
Blessed are the poor in spirit". Blessed are the meek\ 
Will you ride', or walk* % 
Is he young', or is he old* % 
You must not say one', but two\ 
o 



XXVI INTRODUCTION. 

The voice should slide upward or downward, in reading these 
sentences, as represented in the following diagram : 



Did he act V^ or ^£? 




Is he <£f or 

Did he travel for health', or for pleasure* ? 

Did he say man', or men* 7 

Did he say fast', or last* 1 

Are you engaged', or at leisure* 1 

Are they at home', or abroad* 1 

In which the first member ends with the falling, and the sec- 
ond with the rising inflection. 

He said born*, not horn'. 

He said hate*, not late'. 

You should walk*, not ride'. 

He travelled in Europe*, not in Asia'. 

He wfll confess it*, not deny it'. 

CONTRASTED INFLECTIONS. 

Did he say flute', or lute* 1 He said flute*, not lute'. 
Did he say full', or pull* 1 He said full*, not pull'. 
Must I say plain', or pain* 1 You must say plain*, not pain'. 
Does he say able', or unable* 1 He says able*, not unable'. 
Did he run well,' or ill* 1 He did run well*, not ill'. 

RULES FOR THE USE OF INFLECTIONS. 
Rule I. Interrogative sentences which may be answered by yes 
or no, or which commence with a verb, usually take the rising 
inflection. 

EXAMPLES. 

Is the governor dead' 1 

How many days was he absent' 1 



INFLECTIONS. XXV11 

Was there not all the father in that look 7 1 

Is martial ardor dead' 1 

Will you go to-day' 1 

Can you repeat the seventh commandment' ? 

Would you say so, if the case were your own' 1 

II. Interrogative exclamations, and words repeated as a kind 
of echo to the thought, require the rising inflection. 

EXAMPLES. 

He a great statesman' ! 

sacred liberty' ! 

A soldier' ! a thief, a plunderer', an assassin' ! the pest of the country' ! 

HI. When the sense is incomplete, as denoting a pause of sus- 
pension, the rising inflection should usually be used. 

EXAMPLES. 

He', born for the universe', narrowed his mind. 

Did sweeter sounds adorn my flowing tongue', 

Than ever man pronounced or angel sung 7 ; 

Had I all knowledge', human and divine', 

That thought can reach, or science can define'. 

Awake' ! arise' ! :■ 

F, from the orient to the drooping west' 

IV. The different members of a sentence expressing an antithe- 
sis, or contrast, require different inflections ; usually, the rising in- 
flection in the former member, and the falling inflection in the 
latter ; or, when the different members of a sentence are united 
by or ; or, in negative sentences. 

EXAMPLES. 

Do you seek wealth', or power*? 

Did you say statute', or statue' 1 

Is he ill', or is he weir 1 

Did he say call', or hair 1 

There are also celestial' bodies, and bodies terrestrial'. 

He was virtuous', not vicious'. 

I came to bury' Cesar, not to praise' him. 

He is brave', not generous'. 

Study not for amusement', but for improvement'. 

He did not act wisely', but unwisely'. 

Shall I come to you with a rod', or in love' 1 



XXV111 INTRODUCTION. 

V. Tender emotion generally inclines the \oiee to the rising in- 
flection. 

EXAMPLES. 

My mother' ! when 1 Learned that thou wast <\< 
0' my son Absalom', my son', my son Absalom' ! 
Jesus saith unto her, Man 
He bleeds' ! he falls' ! his death-bed is the Held' ! 
Poor man' ! how I pity' him. 

VI. The indirect question, or that which is not answered by 
yes or no, and its answer, should have the falling inflection. 

i.x.wni 

Who say the people that I am"? John the Baptist' ; but some say, 
Elias'. 

Where is Thomas' ? At schooT. 

How many dollars make an eagle' 1 Ten\ 

Where is Russia'? In the north ofEorop 

VII. The language of authority, of surprise, of dMro-s, or of 
denunciation and reprehension, commonly require the falling in- 
flection. 

\M1'LES. 

Up\ comrades ! up' ! 

Bid' him drive back' his car'. 

Come one', come all'. 

0, horrible' ! 0, horrible' ! most' horrible ! 

Angels' ! and ministers of grace', defend us. 

Jesus', Master' ! have mercy on us'. 

Wo unto you, Pharisees' ! hypocrites' ! 

VIII. In a commencing series or number of particulars, the last 
member must have the rising inflection, and all the others, the 
falling inflection. 

EXAMPLES. 

To advise the ignorant', relieve the needy', comfort the afflicted', are 
duties that fall in our way. 

His success', his fame', his life', were all at stake. 

Discomposed thoughts', agitated passions', and a ruffled temper', poison 
every pleasure of life. 



INFLECTIONS. XXIX 

IX. In a concluding series the last member but one must have 
the rising inflection, and all the others, the falling inflection. 

EXAMPLES. 

Wine', beauty', music", pomp', are poor expedients to heave off the load 
of an hour from the heir of eternity\ 

They passed o'er many a frozen, many a fiery Alp ; 
Rocks', caves", lakes', fens', hogs', dens', and shades of death\ 
Time, the greatest of tyrants, taxes our health', our limbs', our facul- 
ties', our strength', and our features\ 

CIRCUMFLEX. 

X. The circumflex is chiefly used to express irony, hypothesis, 
sarcasm, or contrast. 

EXAMPLES. 

Hear him, my lord : he is wondrous condescending. 
I have been so very hot, that I am sure I have caught cold 1 
Man never is, but always to be, blest. 

They follow an adventurer whom they fear; we serve a monarch 
whom we love. 

MONOTONE. 

XI. The monotone is used chiefly to express grand, sublime, 
solemn, or grave emotions, when no word in a sentence has either 
the rising or falling inflection. 

EXAMPLES. 

And I saw a great white throne and Him that sat on it. 

Sound on, thou dark unslumberlng sea ! 

As when the sun, new-risen, looks through the horizontal misty air. 

God walketh on the ocean. Brilliantly 

The glassy waters mirror back his smiles. 

When the monotone is carefully and properly used, it renders 
the passage peculiarly expressive, and gives great dignity to deliv- 
ery. All the preceding Rules, however, should be carefully studied 
by the scholar. 



XXX INTRODUCTION. 

CHAPTER III. 

MODULATION. 

The modulation of the voice is the proper management of ite 
variations or tones in conversation, speaking, and reading, which 
the feelings and emotions of the subject naturally inspire, so as to 
produce pleasure and melody to the ear. To avoid monotony and 
give variety as well as relief to the ear, changes of tone, and changes 
of delivery are necessary. 

The voice is modulated in three ways. It is varied in Pitch, 
from high to low tones. It is varied in Quantity or Loudness of 
sound. It is varied in Quality or Kind of sound. 

PITCH OF THE VOICE. 
In speaking or reading, every person assumes a certain pitch, 
either high or low. Great care should be taken that this be not 
too high or too low, so as either to confound or weary the hearer. 
It may be well, however, to practise the exercise of uttering sen- 
tences in the several variations of high and low, until the scholar 
has acquired skill in their management. There are three Pitches 
of the voice ; the low, the middle, and the high. The low is used 
in expressing emotions of reverence, sublimity, or awe. The mid- 
dle is usually used in common conversation. The high in calling to 
a person at a distance. 

EXAMPLES. 

Whom are we to charge as the deceiver of the state 1 
A thousand hearts are great within my bosom : 
Advance our standards, set upon our foes. 
What the weak head, with strongest bias rules, 
Is pride, the never failing vice of fools. 
Give me another horse, bind up my wounds ; 

soft ; I did but dream. 

If thou shalt fall, I have nor love, nor hope, 
In this wide world. My son, remember me ! 
Try not the Pass ! the old man said, 
Dark lowers the tempest overhead ! 

The preceding sentences contain all the varieties necessary for 



MODULATION. XXXI 

a full exercise of the loio , middle, and high pitches of tones of 
voice, in their various changes. These variations of the voice 
should be, in every respect, such as are naturally suggested by 
sentiment and emotion ; for, every emotion requires its own par- 
ticular pitch of voice to express it. This must be entirely deter- 
mined by good judgment and taste, based on circumstances and 
sentiment. No definite rules can be given to meet every case. 
The advantages of a proper variation of voice are valuable as well 
to the speaker as to the hearer ; for, if the organs of voice become 
wearied by long exercise on one pitch, they will at once be re- 
lieved by changing to a different degree of elevation. The best 
means of avoiding extremes, in all cases, is thoroughly to learn the 
distinction between force and elevation ; and, to acquire the power 
of swelling the voice on a low tone. 

QUANTITY. 
Quantity has regard to or includes fulness of tone, loudness, 
and time or duration of sound. Quantity is mostly limited to the 
vowel sounds, the consonant sounds being very slightly affected by 
it. In quantity, the degrees of variation are very numerous, vary- 
ing from a soft whisper to a vehement shout. As in the pitch of 
the voice, the degree of quantity used should depend on the na- 
ture and extent of the emotion to be expressed ; the hearer being 
thereby influenced in his amount of feeling by that entertained or 
felt by the speaker or reader. It requires very little skill in sounds, 
to perceive that a in fat, is shorter than a in fate : in the former 
case, the organs pass quickly over the vowel to the consonant ; in 
the latter, there is more continuance on the vowel. So is it in 
the utterance of a sentence. 

EXAMPLES. 

How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank ! 
Soil on, thou deep and dark blue ocean, roll. 

Farewell, happy fields, 
Where joy for ever dwells. 
One fault he has : I know but only one. 
Strike — for the sires who left you free ! 
I fear not death, and shall I then fear thee "? 



XXX11 INTRODUCTION. 

QUALITY. 
Quality has regard to the kind of sound used or expr- 
The voice is highly susceptible of improvement in quality, as well 
as in other respects. Some voices are naturally more melodious 
than others in quality, though all may be greatly improved by 
proper discipline and culture. To render harsh, nasal, guttural, 
or uncouth tones of the voice smooth and musical, the following 
course should be practised. Let the pupil utter, again and again, 
sentences like the following; commencing their utterance with a 
whisper or gentle effusion of the breath, and gradually increase 
the tone in fulness and force up to the low, and then to the middle 
pitch; and, in some cases, up to the high pitch. 

AMI'LES. 

Placid and grateful to his rest he sank. 
So gently flows the parting breath, 
"Win i) good mi be. 

To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, 
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day, 
To the last syllable of recorded time. 
But in his motion, like an angel sings. 
She was the rainbow to thy sight. 



CHAPTER IV. 

ACCENT. 



Accent is a particular or forcible stress of the voice which is 
laid on one syllable of a word to distinguish it from other syllables 
in the same word in comparison, or to designate their comparative 
importance, and to promote ease, harmony, and distinctness of ar- 
ticulation. It is also employed to distinguish different parts of 
speech having the same form, and to express opposition of thought. 
Every word of more syllables than one, has one of them accented. 

Accent is either 'primary or secondary. Primary accent is in- 
dispensable to all words of more than one syllable. Secondary 
accent is a less forcible stress of the voice than the primary, which 



ACCENT. XXXlll 

is used only in words of three or more syllables. The primary ac- 
cent is marked thus, ( ' ) after the syllable ; as, in'fant, com-mand'- 
ment. The secondary is marked thus, ( N ) before the syllable ; as, 
indus'tri v ous. 

In words of several syllables, the unaccented syllables are often 
too slightly pronounced or almost entirely suppressed. To avoid 
or correct these errors, it will be highly useful to require the 
scholar to pronounce, as exercises, long words like the following, 
noting or sounding, with great precision, each syllable. 

EXAMPLES. 

In-dus'tri v ous-ly, 'ep-i-dem'ic. gra-tu'i'tous, con-tem'plate, ar-tifi v cer, 
% in-di-visTble, 'phil-o-sophTcal-ly, "in-di'vis-i-bil'i'ty, 'im-ma'te-ri-al'i'ty, 
N ag-ri-cul'tu'rist, x ex-com v mu-ni-ca'tion, x an-ti v rev-o-lu'tion v a-ry, un-char'- 
Tta-ble'ness. 

The use or placing of the accent is generally determined by 
custom. 

I. The accented syllables should be uttered with a louder tone 
than the other syllables. 

EXAMPLES. 

He trav'elled ma'nj thou'sand miles. 
He will make him an offer. 
They will compel' him to do it. 
It is no tri'fimg mat'ter. 
Bles'sed are the peace' makers. 

II. In words which are used as different parts of speech, the ac- 
cent is sometimes changed to note this distinction. 



ac'cent, to accent', 
con'cert, to concert', 
fre'quent, to frequent' 
prod'uce, to produce', 
prot'est, to protest'. 



EXAMPLES. 

refuse, to refuse', 
pre'fix, to prefix', 
sur'vey, to survey', 
attribute, to attrib'ute. 
in' valid, invalid. 



III. The accent is sometimes changed or transposed from its 
customary place to render any particular syllable emphatic, by con- 
trast or opposition of thought. 



XXXIV INTRODUCTION. 



EXAMPLES. 

He must increase, but I must ^crease. 
It is sown in corruption : it is raised in z/icorruption. 
What fellowship hath righteousness with w/i righteousness? 
His ability or inability to perform the act, materially varies the case. 
There is a very great difference between giving and /Wgiving; between 
religion and irreligion. 



CHAPTER V. 

EMPHASIS. 



Emphasis is a peculiar stress of voice which is laid on a certain 
word or words in a sentence or phrase ; or it consists in a certain 
manner of uttering a word or phrase, to give it force and energy, 
by which its due importance and meaning are best expressed. 
The proper use of emphasis must, in all cases, be governed by 
feeling and emotion. The deyree of emphasis should always de- 
pend on its importance in expressing the meaning and sense. 

I. As a general rule, when words are contrasted with, distin- 
guished from, or opposed to, other words either expressed or un- 
derstood, they should be emphatical. To have a scholar read 
with correct emphasis, however, he should speak naturally, and 
with a lively inta-est in what he utters. 

EXAMPLES. 

Forgive, and ye shall be forgiven. 

Seek, and ye shall find. 

I could honor thy courage ; but I must detest and punish thy crimes. 

It is much better to be injured than to injure. 

A child might understand it. 

"Will you ride to town to-day ? 

Will you ride to town to-day ? 

Will you ride to town to-day ? 

Will you ride to town to-day ? 

A friendly eye would never see such faults. 



EMPHASIS. XXXV 

Judge not, that ye be not judged. 

We can do nothing against the truth, but for the truth. 

He raised a mortal to the skies, 

She drew an angel down. 

II. Sometimes emphasis and inflection are combined. 

EXAMPLES. 

If we have no regard for our ovm x character, we ought to regard the 
character of others'. 

To err is human' ; to forgive, divine". 

Man's caution" often into danger' guides. 

For whatsoever a man soioeth' , that shall he also reap". 

HI. Sometimes, several successive words are emphasized. In 
such cases, the emphasis increases on each assertion or repetition, 
each increasing in importance, the last being greater and more 
intense than the first. This is to be used when great or intense 
feeling is to be expressed. 

EXAMPLES. 

Shall we try argument 7 '? Sir-, we have been trying that for the last ten 
years. 

Stay, speak ; speak, I charge thee, SPEAK ! 

Independence now, and independence FOR EVER ! 

Wo unto you, Scribes, Pharisees, HYPOCRITES ! 

The war is inevitable; and let it come! I repeat it, sir, LET IT 
COME ! 

Give me liberty, or GIVE ME DEATH ! 

Wo, wo, WO, to the inhabitants of the earth ! 

POETIC PAUSES OR MANNER OF READING VERSE. 
[The ordinary use and application of the Pauses or Stops have been 
so thoroughly explained in the Introduction to the Juvenile Reader, No. 
Ill, and in the Sequel, or Fourth Reader, that it is not considered ne- 
cessary to enlarge upon those points in this work. The use and applica- 
tion of pauses in reading Poetry only will be treated of here.] 

In reading Poetry or Verse there is a peculiar difficulty in 
making the pauses justly. The difficulty arises from the melody 
of verse, which dictates to the ear pauses or rests of its own : and 
to adjust and compound these properly with the pauses of sense, 



XXXVI INTRODUCTION. 

so as neither to hurt the ear, nor offend the understanding, Is so 
very nice a matter that few persons read poetry well. 

There are generally two poetic pauses which belong to the mel 
ody of verse: the Caesural Pause at or near the middle of every 
line; and the .Final Pause which occurs at the end of the line 01 
lines. These pauses frequently occur at the same place with the 
ordinary pauses, though they are independent of them. Great 
care, in the use of the caesura, should be < in reading 

verse, or very much of the harmony will 1"- lost. It should never 
be so placed as to injure the sense;. When its use naturally coin- 
cides with the pause required by the sense of the passage, it is 
esteemed a great beauty. This caesura, although usually placed 
near the middle, may, in some cases, be placed at other intervals. 
| There is, also, sometimes an additional pause employed. This 
occurs about midway between the beginning and middle, or the 
middle and end of the line. This is called the Demi-caesura. 
Though an observance of these pauses is highly necessary, as they 
constitute the chief melody of poetry ; yet, when they are made 
too prominent, or are too studiously observed, they lead to a mo- 
notonous, measured, or sing-song style, which can not be too care- 
folly avoided. 

The caesura is marked thus ( || ) ; and, the demi-caesura thus 
( | ), in the examples here given. 

The caesura is marked in each line ; but the demi-caesura is 
marked in a portion only. 

EXAMPLES. 

Warms in the sun || refreshes in the breeze, 

Glows in the stars || and blossoms in the trees. 

Our bugles | sang truce || for the night-cloud | had lowered, 

And the sentinel stars || set their watch | in the sky. 

In slumbers | of midnight || the sailor | boy lay, 

His hammock | swung loose || at the sport of the wind. 

We applaud virtue || even in enemies. 

Here rest | the great and good; || here they repose. 

A rock | in the wilderness |j welcomed our sires. 

How dear | to this heart || are the scenes | of my childhood. 

Nature | to all things || fixed | the limits fit, 

And wisely | curbed || proud man's | pretending art. 



EMPHASIS. XXXV11 

RHETORICAL PAUSES. 

Often where no pause is allowed by the grammatical construc- 
tion of the passage or sentence, the voice must rest in speaking or 
reading ; especially is this the case, when the speaker or reader 
wishes particularly to fix the attention on a single word or expres- 
sion, and also, to impress it deeply on the mind. 

The Rhetorical Pause is, most generally, as much required by 
the sense as the Grammatical Pause. There can not, however, 
be any definite rule given as to the length of the rhetorical pause. 

The speaker or reader must determine that himself by exerci- 
sing his own taste and judgment. The rhetorical pause may be 
marked thus, ( |||| ). 

EXAMPLES. 

Prosperity |||| gains friends, adversity |j|| tries them. 
Time |j|| once passed |||| never returns. 

Talents |||| without application |||[ are no security for progress in learning. 
The worst of slaves, are they |||| whom passion ||j| rules. 
The traveller began his journey |||| in the highest spirits |||| and with the 
most delightful anticipations. 
Life mi is short, and art |||| is long. 
Honor |||| and shame |||| from no condition rise. 
Trials |j|j in this state of being ||j| are the lot of man. 

Sometimes a half rhetorical pause is used with great advantage. 
In using this, also, great care as well as taste and judgment should 
be exercised. The half rhetorical pause is marked thus, ( ||| ). 

EXAMPLES. 

Silver |]j and gold |j|| have I none. 

Better ||| is a dinner of herbs |||| where love ||| is, than a stalled ox |||| 
and hatred ||j therewith. 

Our bugles ||| sang truce |||| for the night-cloud ||| had lowered, 
And the sentinels 1 1 1 1 set their watch 1 1 1 in the sky. 
Industry [||[ is the guardian ||| of innocence. 



XXXV111 INTRODUCTION. 

CHAPTER VI. 

GESTURES. 

In beginning to speak in public, almost every person feels the 
natural and usual embarrassment which results from his new posi- 
tion. The strangeness or novelty of his situation often entirely de- 
stroys his self-possession ; and, in consequence of the loss t)f that, 
he almost invariably becomes awkward, his arms and hands hang 
clumsily, and really seem to be quite superfluous or useless mem- 
bers of the body. This embarrassment may sometimes be over- 
come by a powerful exercise of the attention upon the matter of 
which he is speaking ; but, it is more often overcome gradually, 
as the speaker becomes familiar with his position and subject. 
Then he will quite insensibly take the proper attitude, naturally 
and easily. 

Gestures are the various motions, attitudes, or movements of 
the body and limbs of the speaker, pertaining to his manner of 
delivery. These should always be perfectly natural, and in ac- 
cordance with the several sentiments and passions which the 
speaker intends or wishes to express. A speaker should endeavor 
always to feel what he speaks ; for, the perfection of speaking and 
reading is to utter or pronounce the words as if the sentiments 
were those of the speaker or reader, and as naturally as in com- 
mon or ordinary conversation. 

As the faults in ordinary gestures are very numerous, it will not 
be expected, either is it intended to give a minute system of rules 
and directions on the subject in this work ; but merely to give 
some general hints, by means of which the pupil, aided, if practi- 
cable, by the teacher, may form rules, or pursue a discipline for 
himself. A large volume might be written on the subject of ges- 
tures alone ; but, as all scholars in elocution can learn more read- 
ily and quickly as well as thoroughly by a few examples and in- 
structions from the living model, it is deemed quite unnecessary to 
swell this volume with a detail of numerous laws and rules. 

As an aid to the more proper understanding of this subject, 



GESTURES. 



XXXIX 



several figures have been introduced, designed to give the scholar 
a general idea of appropriate gestures, and also to enable him to 
exercise his own judgment and taste, in the use of such other ges- 
tures as will serve to illustrate and enforce the various sentiments 
and thoughts which he may wish to utter. 

The use of such gestures as will give a graceful and impressive 
action is highly desirable, as it is one of the very highest accom- 
plishments of the orator ; and, its importance gives it a just claim 
to the particular attention of all teachers of Elocution. 



Representations of many of the Emotions, Passions, and Feelings 
of the Human Mind. 

In Devotion or Adoration, the body is quite erect ; 
the head thrown somewhat back ; the hands clasped 
and placed on the breast ; the eyes turned upward, 
sometimes closed, however ; one foot placed a little 
in advance of the other. The position should be 
steady, unattended with gestures either of the hands 
or body. In cases, also, in which the person is in 
a kneeling posture, the body, head, and hands 
should be in the same position as when the person 
is in a standing posture. The voice mild and 
gentle. 




In Supplication or Entreating, the head and 
shoulders are thrown quite back ; the hands 
laid one over the other and placed on the 
breast; the eyes turned upward, sometimes 
closed, however ; the feet to be placed near 
each other. During the act of supplication 
there should be no gestures of the hands or 
body, except that, occasionally, when the sup- 
pliant is in great earnestness, the hands thus 
placed may be somewhat raised, particularly 
when supplication is made to another human 
being. The voice mild, but persuasive. 




SUPPLICATION. 



xl 



INTRODUCTION. 




ADMIRATION. 





NARRATION. 



In Admiration or Regard, the body is 
erect; both arms extended ; the hands 
thrown open; the feet placed side by 
side; the eyes fixed, with much intense- 
ness,on the object or objects, sometimes 
raised, the whole mind and attention 
riveted to the Bubject, There should 
be no other gestures than that some- 
times when the admiration is very in- 
tense, the hands may be somewhat 
raised. The voice should be soft and 
flattering. 

In Joy or Mirth, the arms are ex- 
tended; the right hand and arm 
somewhat elevated ; the left arm and 
hand elevated to a right angle with 
the body; the hands both thrown 
open, sometimes waved ; the body 
thrown somewhat back, inclining to 
the left side. When to excess so as to 
produce laughter or mirth, the whole 
body is shaken ; the mouth is opened ; 
|== the nose is crisped ; the aperture of 
the eyes is lessened. The voice some- 
what elevated and quite animated. 
In Narration or Description, the body is erect ; 
the left arm extended and thrown out a little 
from the body, either with or without any thing 
in the hand; the right arm a little bent, the 
hand thrown open, and a little distance from the 
body. In cases of very considerable excitement, 
the right arm may be somewhat raised ; the feet 
placed a little apart, and somewhat thrown out. 
The head should not be much moved, except in 
cases of great earnestness. The voice should be 
somewhat elevated, but firm and steady, with 
considerable uniformity of expression. 



GESTURES. 



Xli 



In Firmness or Determination, the arms are folded 
together ; the body erect and firm ; the head a little 
inclined to one side ; the eyes fixed and steady in 
their purpose ; the lips closed and somewhat con- 
tracted ; under great excitement, the body and head 
may be a little inclined forward and backward ; and, 
sometimes the hands clasped. The voice should be 
considerably elevated, not very loud, however. In 
Resolution or great Earnestness the gestures are a 
little changed by a small effort with the hands 
clasped and a little extended. 



In Argument or Debate, the body and head 
are erect ; the body a little inclined either to the 
right or left, more generally to the left ; the eyes 
fixed on some object ; the right arm from the 
elbow a little extended from the body, and gene- 
rally with the fore finger projecting; the left arm 
a little bent, the hand open, and placed near 
the body ; the feet placed near each other. In 
great earnestness there is oftentimes some mo- 
tion upward and extension of the right arm, or 
both. The voice should be mild and persuasive, 
though firm and generally uniform, except un- 
der much excitement, when it should be raised. 

In Authority or Commanding, &c, the 
body is erect ; the head is kept steady and 
firm ; the right arm is projected or extended 
forward ; the hand is thrown open ; the left 
arm falls quietly by the side ; the counte- 
nance is open ; the eyebrows are drawn down 
a little, giving the person an air of gravity. 
In commanding, a peremptory tone of voice 
and a severe look are required. Generally 
a person in authority speaks with a firm but 
somewhat elevated tone of voice. 




FIRMNESS. 




ARGUMENT. 




AUTHORITY. 



xlii 



INTRODUCTION. 




AMAZEMENT. 




In Amazement, Wonder, or Astonishment, the 
body is erect, sometimes thrown a little back- 
ward ; the muscular system rigid and firm ; the 
arms raised ; the hands are open outward, the 
arms drawn upward, the hands projected ; the 
countenance open ; the eyes quite opened, gla- 
ring, and sometimes fixed ; one foot placed a lit- 
tle before the other. The voice is generally 
quicker than usual, and quite unnatural. Some- 
times the person is quite unable to speak when 
the wonder or astonishment is very great. 



In Disappointment, the body is erect ; the head 
is also erect and fixed; the hands and arms fall 
suddenly by the side; the countenance appears 
sad and melancholy ; the eyes are downcast and 
heavy ; the whole body and limbs quite motionless. 
The voice, if the person speaks at all, is quite sup- 
pressed and faltering, the words few, and often in- 
terrupted by sighs. 



DISAPPOINTMENT. 




In Aversion or Dislike, the body 
somewhat retreats ; the head is avert- 
ed ; the arms are projected out against 
the object, the hands open or spread 
out to keep it off; the feet retire ; the 
eyes are withdrawn ; the countenance 
presents a frown upon it. The voice 
is quite changed, and the words 
spoken in a suppressed tone. 



GESTURES. 



xliii 



In Despondency, Despair, or Melancholy, there is a 
relaxation of the nerves, languor without motion ; the 
head hanging at the " side next the heart ;" the eyes 
generally fixed on the ground ; the hands hanging 
down without effort, and joined loosely together ; the 
countenance gloomy, and motionless ; the lower jaw 
falls ; the words few, and interrupted by sighs. The 
tone of voice very much suppressed and faltering. 



In Terror, Fear, or Horror, the body and 
one foot are drawn back ; the whole body 
starts ; the elbows are drawn back parallel 
to the sides ; the hands are thrown open 
and forward to guard the person ; the coun- 
tenance has an air of wildness ; the eyebrows 
are drawn down ; the face generally be- 
comes pale ; the heart beats violently ; the 
breath is quick, the voice weak and trem- 
bling. Sometimes terror or fear produces 
shrieks and fainting. Horror generally riv- 
ets the eyes of the person on its object. 




In Distress, Grief, or Anguish, the body 
and head are thrown back ; the palm of the 
hand is placed upon the forehead ; the other 
hand is thrown out or backward from the 
body ; the eyes generally inflamed or tearful. 
In grief or anguish, the eyes, and sometimes 
in distress also, the person weeps, and the 
eyes are lifted up to heaven. The voice is 
somewhat suppressed, and very frequently 
interrupted by sighs. 




xliv 



INTRODUCTION. 




ANGER. 



In Anger, the whole body is generally agitated ; 
the right hand is thrown out with a olinohed fist 
or hand ; the eyes staring, rolling, sparkling; the 
eyebrows drawn over them, the forehead wrinkled, 
the nostrils stretched, every vein Bwelled, every 
muscle strained : when anger is violent, the month 
is opened, showing the teeth in a gnashing pos- 
ture ; and Bometimea stamping of the feet; and 
the voice is rapid and interrupted. 

Pride assumes a lofty look, sometimes the body 
thrown back; the eyes open; the mouth pouting; 
the words slow and stiff, with an air of impor- 
tance ; and, sometimes the arms akimbo. 
Courage opens the countenance, and gives tin-, whole form an 
erect and graceful air. The voice is firm, and the accent strong 
and articulate. 

Shame turns away the face from the beholders ; coven it with 
blushes ; caste down the head and eyes ; draws down tin 
brows; makes the tongue to falter, or strikes the person dumb. 

Remorse casts down the countenance, and clouds it with anx- 
iety. Sometimes the teeth gnash, and the right hand beats the 
breast. 

As many persons who make the gestures tolerably well, place 
their hands and feet in very awkward and improper positions, a 
few figures of each are here inserted. 




PAETICULAE FAULTS IN GESTURES. xlv 




Many other figures, to represent the passions, &c, might be in- 
serted ; but, it is believed that a sufficient quantity has been in- 
serted to answer the purpose intended, as stated at the commence- 
ment of this chapter. 



PARTICULAR FAULTS IN GESTURES. 

As there are a great many faults in the use of gestures, commit- 
ted by almost all public speakers, it will be well, no doubt, to point 
out or hint at some of the most prominent and objectionable ones, 
for the consideration both of teacher and pupil. 

1st. Not standing erect and firm, and in such a posture as to ex- 
pand the chest and give full play to the organs of respiration and 
utterance. This fault should be very carefully guarded against. 

2d. Sustaining the weight of the lody equally on oothfeet. This 
course renders change exceedingly inconvenient, as will be found on 
trial ; and, it is otherwise very objectionable, particularly as the atti- 
tude is such that it can not be shifted with ease, and without shuffling 
and hitching the limbs. The attitude most favorable is that in 
•which the weight of the body is thrown upon one limb, the other 
being left free to be advanced or thrown back, as fatigue or correct 
action in delivery may require. 

3d. The speaker not looking the audience in the face. The eyes 
should be constantly directed to the audience, but not on any indi- 
vidual so as to make him a special object of address. Sometimes 
this fault leads the eyes of the speaker entirely away from the audi- 
ence; but, whenever the audience is spoken to, the eyes of the 
speaker should meet theirs. 

4th. Separating the feet too far from each other, thus destroying 
the simplicity of the standing posture adapted to oratory, and giving 
to the person a swaggering air ; or, where the feet are on a line with 
each other, a very awkward and ungainly appearance. 

5th. Changing the position too frequently , which always indicates 



xlvi INTRODUCTION. 

uneasiness and anxiety. This should be rigidly avoided, as from 
sympathy, the audience will also become uneasy and anxious; and, 
of course, inattentive. 

6th. Showing an excessive or unnatural action of the countenance, 
or an excess or extravagance of manner generally, especially an ex- 
pression of assumed excitement. This is quite distinguishable and 
remote from the force, propriety, and effect of natural expression, 
which, when characterized by strength and loveliness, command-, 
alike the judgment and the heart. 

7th. Turning the head too rapidly, or in a jerking manner. Its 
movements on its axis should be moderate or slow, never rapid or 
sudden. 

8th. Not keeping the limb straight on which the body is sustained 
and not gently bending the free one. The body is, by this fault, 
thrown out of the erect position, and presents the appearance of a 
falling building. The supporting limb should be straight, hut not 
rigid, and the knee of the other limb bent in an easy, natural man- 
ner. These directions are positively necessary to a graceful and 
erect position. 

9th. Keeping the same position for too long oj period. The feet 
should always change their position at marked transitions of 
thought; should advance in the more animated, and retire in the 
calmer parts of a discourse. They should not be moved at all with- 
out some reference to the sentiment and character of the discourse. 
These changes should never be carried so far, however, as to imply 
restlessness in the speaker. 

10th. Separating the fingers from each other. The approximation 
of the fingers in the manner described in the natural position of the 
hand, is essential to force and expression in its general movements. 
Sometimes in its elevated positions and when held vertically, the fin- 
gers are properly separated, particularly in the expression of strong 
emotion; never, however, when the hand is employed to mark em- 
phasis, in a downward direction, and seldom in ordinary public 
speaking. 

11th. Following the hand with the eye, as if for the purpose of 
adjusting the gesture. This is particularly objectionable, and should 
always be avoided. 

12th. Too freely using the left hand. The right hand should be 
principally employed in public speaking. The left may be used, 
when addressing persons on the left side : also, for the purpose of 
pointing out objects in that direction ; occasionally for variety; and 
in the expression of strong emotion, in order to support the right 
hand. In public speaking, however, the action of the right should 
maintain a great predominance. 

These faults and several others which might be stated are of not 
unfrequent occurrence, and are connected more or less with a certain 
stiffness of appearance, which conveys to the audience the notion or 
idea of distress on the part of the speaker, and should be faithfully 
guarded against by every person who wishes to render himself an 
agreeable and impressive public speaker. 



COBB'S SPEAKER 



LESSON I. 

ENLIGHTENED PHILANTHROPY. 

[Extract from an Address delivered at Raleigh on the occasion of laying 
the corner-stone of the North Carolina Institution of the Deaf and Dumb, 
April 14, 1848, by H. P. Peet, President of the New York Institution for 
the Instruction of the Deaf and Dumb.] 

1. The cause of enlightened philanthropy has made such 
rapid progress during the last half century, that the generous 
and sanguine, almost forgetting that injustice and violence, still, 
at times, desolate the earth, might well dream of the approach 
of the millennium. For what can more strongly mark the 
moral condition of that happy period, than to see the tree of 
knowledge, bearing the fruit of good, unmixed with evil? To 
see the researches of science devoted to the discovery of means 
for the relief of affliction ? 

2. To lift the degraded, to comfort the afflicted, to enlighten 
the ignorant, to supply eyes to the blind, ears to the deaf, and a 
tongue to the dumb, are tasks worthy of the highest ambition : 
tasks, which those, who would humbly follow in the footsteps of 
the Redeemer, and do what is given them to do in preparing 
the way for his second coming, are encouraged to undertake by 
many precious promises. 

3. ISTo one can read the rapt visions of the prophet, figuring 
the blessedness that is to overspread the earth under the Gospel 
dispensation, without being struck by the prominence given to 
the relief of the blind, and of the deaf and dumb. We can not 



48 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

doubt that these prophecies look beyond the literal fulfilment, in 
comparatively few cases, during the life-time of the Savior, and 
are now receiving a more general, tli- aiuh leas literal accomplish- 
ment, in the success and raj. id increase of institutions of benev- 
olence. 

4. Of all the children of affliction, there are none whose lot 
appeals more strongly t" <>ur feelings of humanity, than thai of 
the uninstructed deaf and dumb. Though bone of our hone, and 
flesh of our flesh, eating at our tables, Bitting at our firesides, and 
even kneeling at our family altars : bearing the image of the 
Creator, gifted with faculties for intellectual and moral excel- 
lence, and possessing souls that must live,- think, and feel for 
ever, they have been, for almost counties generations, shut out 
of the pale of social and religious privileg 

5. We may, without exaggeration, pronounce them less fortu- 
than the lower animals, for tiny had few or no enjoyments 

beyond those common to the latter, and tin- faculties that lay dor- 
mant within them, served but to show them glimpses of the 
higher enjoyments of th<- intellectual and spiritual world, beaming 
from the eyes of their more fortunate kin- lied, and awakening in 
themselves desires doomed t<> real ever unsatisfied. Such was the life 
of the deaf mute, passed in mental and moral darkness, and deeper 
and more hopeless darkness rested on its closing hour. 

6. But the light has dawned at last. The prophecy that the 
deaf shall hear the word* has been in part fulfilled, and the 
good tidings of great joy to all people, are, in our day, proclaimed 
to those, who, of all men most needing the promises and consolations 
of the Gospel, had been, for centuries upon centuries, alone of all 
men, cut off" from those promises and consolations. Surely if 
there is any act which we may reverently suppose to be accepta- 
ble to the God of Love, it is the act of taking by the hand our poor, 
ignorant, and afflicted deaf and dumb brother, and leading him to 
the blessed fountains of knowledge ; of the knowledge that bright- 
ens the otherwise cheerless scenes of life ; and of that higher 
knowledge that takes the sting from death. 

* Isaiah xxix. 18. 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 49 

LESSON II. 

INSTRUCTION BY LECTURES. B. F. BUTLER. 

1. The communication of instruction by oral discourses or lec- 
tures, well accords with the social nature of man, and with the 
other parts of his intellectual and moral constitution. As might 
therefore be expected, it is coeval with the history of civilization 
itself. Indeed, until the invention of the art of printing, it was 
the only method by which knowledge could be diffused among 
the mass of the community. 

2. It was through this medium, that the inspired lawgiver of 
the Hebrews made known to his rude and intractable countrymen, 
the principles of religion, the rules of moral duty, and the institu- 
tions and requirements of civil and ecclesiastical polity. The solemn 
instructions, the stern reproofs, and the impassioned appeals of the 
teachers and prophets who succeeded him, were, for the most part, 
communicated, in the first instance, in this way. 

3. It was by this method, also, that the Grecian philosophers, 
within the walls of their academies, or in the surrounding groves, 
taught those who frequented their respective schools. Socrates, 
the wisest and most useful of their number, carried the pratice still 
farther. He did not confine himself to a school or to select hear- 
ers : he lectured and debated in all places, and on all occasions ; 
to promiscuous crowds of the common people, as well as to graver 
assemblies of the higher classes. He was thus, (says Cicero,) the 
first who called down Philosophy from heaven ; gave her a residence 
171 cities ; introduced her to the fireside ; and made her familiar 
with the affairs and duties of ordinary life. 

4. A teacher more illustrious than Socrates, one who really de- 
served the lofty panegyric of the Roman orator ; the teacher who 
spake as never man spake, adopted the like method of imparting 
knowledge on the most sacred and momentous of subjects. His 
early followers, the men chosen to confound the wisdom, to confute 
the philosophy, and to overthrow the might of this world, pursued, 
substantially, the same course. 

3 



50 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

5. Although the art of printing has furnished new and marvel- 
lous facilities for instructing and influencing mankind, it has not 
superseded the popular lecture. No community exists in which 
the art of reading, at least of reading with fluency, and with quick 
apprehension of the matter read, is universal ; and of those who 
possess this talent, many will not employ it to advantage. Others, 
with the ability and the inclination to read, have few or no books 
of a useful nature ; or they may not find leisure to read such 
books as tiny possess. Then, too, the instruction which comes 
to us from the lips of the living teacher, appeals more directly to 
the senses, awakens a greater interest, and makes a more lasting 
impression, than the mere perusal of the same won Is. 

6. When accompanied by the higher graces of eloquence and 
oratory, it becomes exceedingly attractive ; the imagination is 
quickened and delighted ; the taste is gratified ; and the mind 
enjoys one of the richest pleasures of which it is susceptible. With 
only a moderate share of these advantages, it is yet one of the most 
agreeable and effective modes of imparting knowledge, of bringing 
it home " to the business and the bosoms" of individuals, and of 
diffusing it among the masses. Especially is this the case where 
the object of the instructer is to influence the affections as well as 
the understanding, and where urgent and pathetic appeals may 
properly compose a large part of the discourse. 

7. The most impressive illustration of these principles is to be 
found in the history of the Christian ministry ; and it may, with- 
out irreverence, be presumed, that reference was had to them in 
its establishment. For eighteen centuries it has shed over a be- 
nighted world the rays of heavenly truth ; and this ministry of 
good it is destined to perform, with still increasing radiance, until at 
length " the Light himself" in unclouded and eternal day, " shall 
shine revealed" to the whole family of man. 

8. In modern times, and by a natural extension of its capabil- 
ities, popular addresses have been employed as a means of reaching 
the ear, and influencing the mind of the community on questions 
of a social and public nature, not within the ordinary cognizance 
of the pulpit. In Great Britain, and some other parts of Europe, as 



COBB'S SPEAKEK. 51 

well as in our own country, this mode of explaining, inculcating, 
and defending the views of the speaker upon such questions, has 
been long and frequently resorted to with much effect. In times 
of great political excitement, when the attention is easily roused, 
and the public mind is eager for discussion, its influence is great. 
It has also been used with great success in aid of the various en- 
terprises for meliorating the condition of our species, which have 
conferred on this age so much and such substantial glory. 

9. Not to specify other instances, the temperance reform, which, 
despite of some mistakes and imprudences, may justly be ranked 
among the greatest results of modern philanthropy, was mainly 
accomplished by it. If many wild and impracticable theories have, 
in this way, been put before the public ; and, if the popular mind 
has often been agitated and sometimes deluded by them, it must 
yet be admitted, that much of the progress which has been made 
in political knowledge and in social improvement, within the last 
half century, is to be ascribed to this instrumentality. 

1 0. There is yet another use of the popular lecture, which demands 
from us, on the present occasion, a more particular consideration. 
It has, of late, been much employed in our cities and large villages, 
for the discussion of literary and scientific subjects, and for the dif- 
fusion of knowledge on such topics ; and this is a sufficient proof 
of its general adaptation to this end. But to exhibit its true value 
in this respect, and to point out the proper mode of employing it to 
advantage, it will be necessary to speak advisedly and with proper 
discrimination. In the first place, it should be distinctly understood, 
that it is impossible to gain thorough knowledge, in any particular 
department of literature or science, by merely listening to popular 
lectures. 

11. The form which must be given to such discourses, in order 
to secure the attention of a promiscuous assembly, is inconsistent 
with the severity and minuteness which are often necessary to the 
proper treatment of the subject ; and the rapidity with which the 
speaker passes from one proposition to another, prevents the hearer 
from giving that attention to each, which may, perhaps, be need- 
ful to a clear understanding of the address. In some instances, 



52 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

also, the habit of attending upon such lecture-, especially if fre- 
quent and on many different subjects, may beget a passion for this 
species of intellectual entertainment, which, so far from instructing, 
may only dissipate the mind, and prove, in the end, a hindcrancc 
rather than a help to full and accurate information. 



LESSON III. 

EDUCATIONAL WANTS OF THE WEST. 

[Extract from a Sermon preached in Brooklyn, N. Y., Nov. 12, 1848, by 
Rev. Hexey Ward Beecher.] 

1. To say that ten millions of people were suddenly cast into a 
capacious valley ; to say that never before was there so vast a 
population suddenly rooted on a soil on which they were not born ; 
to say that the West is a vast repository ; a museum of men ; a 
world in epitome, would give you no idea of what is actually 
true. 

2. To say that this million-multitude, urging their impetuous 
course to the Westward from revolutionary Europe, hastening from 
the uprising deluge, have come with ideas as diverse as features ; 
with customs not less foreign than their costumes; the canny 
Scotch ; the mercurial Irish ; the plodding English ; the phleg- 
matic German ; the effervescent French ; the inveterate and un- 
changeable ever-wandering Jew; the New Englander and the 
Southerner; all this is to give only an outside picture to the 
imagination. 

3. We glance lightly across the motley multitude ; their rude 
abundance, their hard hospitality, their trafficking, their husbandry, 
their shades of agreement, or their strange and contrasting dissimi- 
larities ; and, although the mind finds perpetual amusement in 
such view, we ponder deeper questions, we ruminate upon deeper 
interests. 

4. Those foreigners are not now foreign ; they are denizens. 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 53 

"Those odd and outlandish ways are causes, nevertheless. This 
vast and various population is carrying a vast and various mind ; 
they think, and make thought ; they feel, and produce feeling ; 
they will, and execute their volitions. They do not stand each in 
his place, like the trees of a girdled forest ; like long, bare, gray 
trunks in a clearing, neither intertwined by root nor locked by 
branch ; but they are living powers, roused by great causes to in- 
tense activity ; they are moulding each other, and there is to be a 

RESULT. 

5. The statesman, forecasting, asks what shall be this result, 
and all its economic bearings. The philanthropic citizen earnestly 
wishes to know whether so mighty a movement as this is to enrich 
or destroy us. Chiefly the Christian, long praying, " Thy kingdom 
come," and proudly rejoicing to believe our land destined to be the 
apostle of nations, turns hither his anxious heart to know what 
the end of all these things shall be. It is impossible to tell what. 
We may nearly discriminate whether it shall be glorious or 
wretched ; but the degrees and characteristic peculiarities of either, 
none can tell. 

6. We know that a fusion of races has always been for the 
advantage of the product ; and we can hopefully anticipate upon 
physiological grounds, a nobler race of men in bodily equipment 
from this vast commingling of bloods than ever before walked and 
developed the earth. It is not the sluggish concourse of lazy 
streams, leaving the waters on the top to stagnate, while, by pre- 
cipitation, it deposites mud below. It is the coming together of 
vigorous men, youthful, developed, energetic, and bearing their 
national traits susceptible of transmission. 

V. In this generation, the Irish and German shall yield a race 
of children to be commingled in the next with the Southerner and 
the New Englander. In a third generation these again will mix 
with the hardy constitution of the Scotch, or the cheer and hilari- 
ous patience of the French. But the Southerner will retain his 
propensities ; the Scot will die with his strongly marked peculiari- 
ties. The Irish and the German will be as broadly distinguished 
after living fourscore years upon our soil, as on the day they landed. 



54 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

8. No man can have gone through the western country without 
being struck with the universal tendency to Equality, without 
having felt how sweet a thing it is for man to find out that he is 
a man. Each man seems to say in his mien, carriage, rod deport- 
ment ; " There is not a man in this community that is by race, or 
law, or custom, more a man than I am. My vote is worth as 
much as another man's. I am an independent citizen of a great 
nation." 

9. Many will look with disgust upon the assumption of a peasant 
to stand upon an equality with those, in older societies, above him. 
They scorn a liberty that makes his vote equal to the vote of 
Bacon or Newton ; as heavy, as decisive. But they who have 
longed to know how to raise up the masses of men, to give dignity 
and culture to rude and low, rejoice in any change or condition 
that brings upon men the responsibility of men, gives a sense of 
character, and educates them to the duties and rights of citizenship. 

10. The men that were nothing here, have grown to be much 
there. There was no room for them here, the land was crowded. 
But, swept by Emigration, they subside in the Western valleys, 
and yield a harvest of fruits not possible before. Men that had no 
room to grow before they emigrated, shoot up with great force 
when set free from the pressure of older circumstances. 

11. Emigration brings the mind out of a mechanical and con- 
servative state into a creative one. The tendency here is to Conser- 
vatism. A young man begins to earn and continues to earn till 
50 or 60 years of age ; then there is a mutation. There is now 
the fear of losing what he has already gained. Age is the very 
nest in which misers are bred. 

12. It is so with nations. When young they are vigorous, 
active, creative ; but as they grow rich and have more to take care 
of, they too insensibly change, and their vocation is to be guardians 
of the wealth they have hoarded. The great characteristic of 
mind in our young settlements is, that it is wide awake, and little 
anxious about past acquisitions or congealed and consolidated in- 
stitutions. 

13. In our age, and in our country, Emigration brings the 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 55 

human mind into the best condition for the propagation of religion 
and refinement. The stubbornness and prejudice of old and fixed 
ways are broken up. All things are new. The daily necessity is 
to receive new ideas ; to perform new actions. To create, to re- 
ceive, to progress, is the very law of new communities. The re- 
pellencies of older society are not yet developed. The mind is 
hungry, active, absorbent. 

14. It is said that emigration tends to barbarism, because men 
leave their institutions behind them ; but they have not left that in- 
stinct behind them by which they must have some institutions. They 
have left those which were old, rickety, and decayed as their 
houses ; but, thank God, they can make other and better. In old 
communities, laws are made to preserve the possessions of the 
rich ; in new settlements they are made to protect the poor, be- 
cause they are made by the poor. 

15. The great need of the mind in such a state, is institutions 
adapted to mould; that shall educate them, not restrain, not 
oppress them. The mind never takes a firm, fixed aspect, except 
under continued influences. It is not action, but courses of action, 
that give stamp and character to men. That which men need is 
not a gleam or sheet of light, but a sun that shall shine all the 
time, giving them a permanent daylight ; they need centres of 
permanent influence. This is the true way of educating men. 



LESSON IV. 

RURAL LIFE IN ENGLAND. IRVING. 

1. The fondness for rural life among the higher classes of the 
English has had a great and salutary effect upon the national 
character. I do not know a finer race of men than the English 
gentlemen. Instead of the softness and effeminacy which charac- 
terize the men of rank in most countries, they exhibit a union of 
elegance and strength, a robustness of frame and freshness of com- 



66 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

plexion, which I am inclined to attribute to their living so much 
in the open air, and pursuing so eagerly the invigorating recrea- 
tions of the country. 

2. These hardy exercises produce also a healthful tone of mind 
and spirits, and a manliness and simplicity of manners, which even 
the follies and dissipations of the town can not easily pervert, and 
can never entirely destroy. In the country, too, the different 
orders of society seem to approach more freely, to be more disposed 
to blend and operate favorably upon each other. The distinctions 
between them do not appear to be so marked and impassable as 
in the cities. 

3. The manner in which property has been distributed into 
small estates and farms, has established a regular gradation from 
the nobleman, through the classes of gentry, small landed proprie- 
tors, and substantial farmers, down to the laboring peasantry ; and 
while it has thus banded the extremes of society together, has in- 
fused into each intermediate rank a spirit of independence. This, 
it must be confessed, is not so universally the case at present as it 
was formerly; the larger estates having, in late years of distress, 
absorbed the smaller, and, in some parts of the country, almost 
annihilated, the sturdy race of small farmers. These, however, I 
believe, are but casual breaks in the general system I have men- 
tioned. 

4. In rural occupation, there is nothing mean or debasing. It 
leads a man forth among scenes of natural grandeur and beautv ; 
it leaves him to the workings of his own mind, operated upon by 
the purest and most elevating of external influences. Such a man 
may be simple and rough but he can not be vulgar. The man of 
refinement, therefore, finds nothing revolting in an intercourse with 
the lower orders in rural life, as he does when he casually mingles 
with the lower order of cities. 

5. He lays aside his distance and reserve, and is glad to waive 
the distinctions of rank, and to enter into the honest, heart-felt en- 
joyments of common life. Indeed, the very amusements of the 
country, bring men more and more together ; and the sound of 
hound and horn blend all feelings into harmony. I believe this is 



COBB'S SPEAKEK. 57 

one great reason why the nobility and gentry are more popular 
among the inferior orders in England than they are in any other 
country, and why the latter have endured so many excessive press- 
ures and extremities, without repining more generally at the un- 
equal distribution of fortune and privilege. 

6. To this mingling of cultivated and rustic society may also be 
attributed the rural feeling that runs through British literature : 
the frequent use of illustrations from rural life ; those incompara- 
ble descriptions of nature that abound in the British poets, that 
have continued down from " the Flower and the Leaf" of Chaucer, 
and have brought into our closets all the freshness and fragrance 
of the dewy landscape. 

7. The pastoral writers of other countries appear as if they had 
paid nature an occasional visit, and become acquainted with her 
general charms ; but the British poets have lived and revelled with 
her ; they have wooed her in her most secret haunts ; they 
have watched her minutest caprices. A spray could not tremble 
in the breeze ; a leaf could not rustle to the ground ; a diamond 
drop could not patter in the stream ; a fragrance could not ex- 
hale from the humble violet, nor a daisy unfold its crimson teints 
to the morning, but it has been noticed by these impassioned and 
delicate observers, and wrought up into some beautiful morality. 

8. The effects of this devotion of elegant minds to rural occupa- 
tions, has been wonderful on the face of the country. A great 
part of the island is rather level, and would be monotonous, were 
it not for the charms of culture ; but it is studded and gemmed, as 
it were, with castles and palaces, and embroidered with parks and 
gardens. It does not abound in grand and sublime prospects, but 
rather in little home scenes of rural repose, and sheltered quiet. 
Every antique farm-house and moss-grown cottage is a picture ; 
and as the roads are continually winding, and the view is shut in 
by groves and hedges, the eye is delighted by a continual succes- 
sion of small landscapes of captivating loveliness. 

9. The great charm, however, of English scenery is the moral 
feeling that seems to pervade it. It is associated in the mind with 
ideas of order, of quiet, of sober, well-established principles, of 

3* 



58 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

hoary usage, and reverend custom. Every tiling seems to be the 
growth of ages of regular and peaceful existence. The old church 
of remote architecture, with its low massive portal ; its gothic 
tower ; its windows rich with tracery and painted glass, its scrupu- 
lous preservation ; its stately monuments of warriors and worthies 
of the olden time, ancestors of the present lords of the soil ; its 
tombstones, recording successive generations of sturdy yeomanry, 
whose progeny still plough the same fields, and kneel at the same 
altar ; the parsonage, a quaint irregular pile, partly antiquated, 
but repaired and altered in the tastes of various ages and occupants ; 
the stile and foot-path leading from the churchyard, across pleas- 
ant fields, and along shady hedge-rows, according to the immemo- 
rial right of way ; the neighboring village, and its venerable cot- 
tages, its public green sheltered by trees, under which the forefathers 
of the present race have sported ; the antique family mansion, 
standing apart in some little rural domain, but looking down with 
a protecting air on the surrounding scene : all these common 
features of English landscape, evince a calm and settled security, 
and hereditary transmission of home-bred virtues, and local attach- 
ments, that speak deeply and touehingly for the moral character 
of the nation. 

10. It is a pleasing sight of a Sunday morning, when the bell 
is sending its sober melody across the quiet fields, to behold the 
peasantry in their best finery, with ruddy faces and modest cheer- 
fulness, thronging tranquilly along the green lanes to church ; but 
it is still more pleasing to see them in the evenings, gathering 
about their cottage doors, and appearing to exult in the humble 
comforts and embellishments, which their own hands have spread 
around them. 

11. It is this sweet home-feeling, this settled repose of affection 
in the domestic scene, that is, after all, the parent of the steadiest 
virtues and purest enjoyments ; and I can not close these desultory 
remarks better, than by quoting the words of a modern English 
poet, who has depicted it with remarkable felicity : 

12. Through each gradation, from the castled hall, 
The city dome, the villa crowned with shade, 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 59 

But chief from modest mansions numberless, 



In town or hamlet, shelt'ring middle life, 

Down to the cottaged vale, and straw-roofed shed, 

This western isle hath long been famed for scenes 

Where bliss domestic finds a dwelling-place ; 

Domestic bliss, that, like a harmless dove, 

(Honor and sweet endearment keeping guard,) 

Can centre in a little quiet nest, 

All that desire would fly for through the earth ; 

That can, the world eluding, be itself 

A world enjoyed ; that wants no witnesses 

But its own sharers, and approving heaven ; 

That, like a flower deep hid in rocky cleft, 

Smiles, though 'tis looking only at the sky. 



LESSON V. 

BATTLE WITH LIFE. DICKENS' "HOUSEHOLD WORDS.' 

1. Bear thee up bravely, 

Strong heart and true ! 
Meet thy woes gravely, 

Strive with them too ! 
Let them not win from thee 

Tear of regret, 
Such were a sin from thee, 

Hope for good yet ! 

2. Rouse thee from drooping, 

Care-laden soul ; 
Mournfully stooping 

'Neath grief's control ! 
Far o'er the gloom that lies, 

Shrouding the earth, 
Light from eternal skies 

Shows us thy worth. 



60 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

3. Nerve thee yet stronger, 

Resolute mind ! 
Let care no longer 

Heavily bind. 
Rise on thy eagle wings 

Gloriously free! 
Till from material things 

Pure thou shalt be ! 

4. Bear ye up bravely, 

Soul and mind too ! 
Droop not so gravely, 

Bold heart and true ! 
Clear rays of streaming light 

Shine through the gloom, 
God's love is beaming bright 

E'en round the tomb ! 



LESSON VI. 

A WINTER LANDSCAPE IN RUSSIA. R. K. PORTER. 

J. Nothing- interesting presenting itself, we travelled onwards, 
through towns and villages, and over a dreary country, rendered 
many times more so by the season. All around was a vast wintry 
flat ; and frequently not a vestige of man or of cultivation was 
seen, not even a solitary tree, to break the boundless expanse of 
snow. Indeed, no idea can be formed of the immense plains we 
traversed, unless you imagine yourself at sea, far, far from the sight 
of land. 

2. The Arabian deserts can not be more awful to the eye than 
the appearance of this scene. Such is the general aspect of the 
country during the rigors of winter, with now and then an exception 
of a large forest skirting the horizon for a considerable length of 
way. At intervals as you shoot along, you see openings among 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 61 

its lofty trees, from which emerge picturesque groups of natives and 
their one-horse sledges, whereon are placed the different articles 
of commerce, going to various parts of this empire. 

3. They travel in vast numbers, and from all quarters, seldom 
fewer than one hundred and fifty in a string, having a driver to 
every seventh horse. The effect of this cavalcade at a distance 
is very curious ; and in a morning, as they advance towards you, 
the scene is as beautiful as striking. The sun, then rising, 
throws his rays across the snow, transforming it to the sight into 
a surface of diamonds. 

4. From the cold of the night every man and horse is incrusted 
with these frosty particles ; and the beams falling on them too, 
seem to cover their rude faces and rugged habits with a tissue of 
the most dazzling brilliants. The manes of the horses, and the 
long beards of the men, from the quantity of congealed breath, 
have a particularly glittering effect. 



LESSON VII. 

EGYPTIAN PYRAMIDS. E. D. CLARKE. 

1. With what amazement did we survey the vast surface that 
was presented to us when we arrived at this artificial mountain, which 
seemed to reach the clouds. Here and there appeared some Arab 
guides upon the immense masses above us, like so many pigmies, 
waiting to show the way to the summit. Already some of our 
party had begun the ascent, and were pausing at the tremendous 
depth which they saw below. 

2. One of our military companions, after having surmounted the 
most difficult part of the undertaking, became giddy in conse- 
quence of looking down from the elevation he had attained ; and, 
being compelled to abandon the project, he hired an Arab to 
assist him in effecting his descent. The rest of us, more accustomed 
to the business of climbing heights, with many a halt for respira- 



62 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

tion, and many an exclamation of wonder, pursued our way tow- 
ards the summit. 

3. The mode of ascent has been frequently described ; and yet 
from the questions that are often proposed to traveller*, it doei not 
appear to be generally understood. The reader may imagine him- 
self to be upon a staircase, every step of which, to a man of mid- 
dle stature, is nearly breast high; and the breadth of each step is 
equal to its height; consequently the footing i- iGOUMj and 
although a retrospect in going up, be sometimes fearful to penetfB 
unaccustomed to look down from any considerable elevation, yet 
there is little danger of falling. 

4. In some place-, indeed, where tin- stones are decayed* eautioi 
may be required; and an Arab guide is always necessary, to avoid 
a total interruption ; but on the whole, the means of ascent are 
such, that almost every one may accomplish it. Our progress was 
impeded by other causes. We carried with us a few instruments, 
such as our boat-compass, a thermometer, a telescope, <kc. 

5. These could not be trusted in the hands of the Arabs, and 
they w r ere liable to be broken every instant. At last we reached 
the topmost tier, to the great delight and satisfaction of all the 
party. Here we found a platform, thirty-two feet square, con- 
sisting of nine large stones, each of which might weigh about a 
tun ; although they are much inferior in size to some of the stones 
used in the construction of this pyramid. 

6. Travellers of all ages, and of various nations, have here in- 
scribed their names. Some are written in Greek, many in French, 
a few in Arabic, one or two in English, and others in Latin. We 
were as desirous as our predecessors to leave a memorial of our arri- 
val : it seemed to be a tribute of thankfulness due for the success 
of our undertaking ; and, presently, every one of our party was 
seen busied in adding the inscription of his name. 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 63 

LESSON VIII. 

VISITING THE POOR AND NEGLECTED. REV. ORVILLE DEWEY. 

1. Not long since, I addressed you on the duty which is incum- 
bent on us all, on every individual of the more prosperous classes, 
to visit the poor and neglected. I believe that the suggestions 
then made, commended themselves to your feelings and consciences. 
Some of you, I know, undertook the task. 

2. But you found it more difficult than you expected. You felt 
that you needed a training for the purpose ; and I believe that 
you have reluctantly intermitted your exertions. I can not alto- 
gether relinquish that object; it is the point to which society 
ought ultimately to come. But, perhaps, it is true, that " a min- 
istry at large" must prepare the way for it. 

3. At any rate, I say, if you will not, or can not, go yourselves 
to visit the poor, then send some minister of your beneficence and 
sympathy among them. And think not to send an inferior or 
ordinary man to them. I know of no ministerial function in the 
world that requires more delicacy, more discrimination, and judg- 
ment, and varied talent, than this. 

4. Send, therefore, such a one among your poor and neglected 
brethren. He will be a messenger of mercy to them. He will be 
their adviser and friend. They want advice, they want friendship, far 
more than they want money. The voice of friendship from the 
classes above them, they have seldom heard. It fills their hearts 
with wonder, and their eyes with tears, to hear it. I speak of 
facts. 

5. There are records of that blessed ministry which would make 
you weep with joy, if you could read them ; gratitude beaming 
from many a lately sad and despairing brow, because the vicious 
husband, or father, or son, is restored to his suffering family ; light 
exchanged for darkness in many a poor dwelling; comfort for 
miserable destitution ; purity for pollution ; peace for distraction ; 
men and women that lately were raging like demons, cursing man 
and God, now sitting in peace and in their right mind ; sitting to- 



64 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

gether a happy family, and blessing, as more than light and life, 
the visitation of that beneficent ministry. Send that visitation, 
my brethren, to the poor; and "the blessing of many ready to 
perish shall come upon you." 

6. Once more, I say, send that visitation to the poor, and 
it in good hope and confidence. It is not necessary that the 
world should be given up to sin and misery. It is ooi accessary 
that cities or countries should grow dinohite m they grow wealthy 
and populous. There is power enough in society, were it but 
exerted, to save it from its worst vices and Bufferings. Oh ! would 
men but understand that great mystery of Christianity, too seldom 
solved by experience, that the offices <>t* philanthropy are the most 
blessed and sublime privileges of our being; that it is not what 
we do for ourselves, but what we do for others, that makes our 
glory and happiness! would men but do each other good as they 
have done each other evil ! and instead of kingdoms and armies 
banded together for strife and slaughter, would that the associated 
power of the human race were put forth to heal the wounds and 
woes of life ! 

V. Come that day, looked after and longed for through ages ; 
seen dimly through the tears of faith and prayer ; seen clearly and 
brightly only in the vision of prophecy ; the day of the second 
coming of Christ ; the reign for a thousand years, of truth and 
mercy on earth ! Come that day, when " the rich and poor shall 
meet together," and God shall be acknowledged as " the Maker of 
them all !" Come the day, when cities shall be purged from their 
iniquities, and nations shall dwell in peace and happiness ! 

8. Brethren, are not some harbingers of that coming day ; some 
stars in the east, shining before the pathway of nations ? In that 
great school of virtue and knowledge which has been opened on 
earth for six thousand years, hath not something been already 
learned ? Is not the world growing wiser, and will it not yet be- 
come too wise to bear the unnecessaiy miseries of war, and oppres- 
sion, and vice ? 

9. Hath not the nation come into being on these very shores, 
which shall fulfil some of the hopes of long-suffering humanity ? 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 65 

Are not ours the communities ? are not ours the cities, that shall 
perform this glorious work ? Alas! that it should be a question, 
when it is in our own power to make it a sublime certainty. 
Men of our cities and of our communities ! to you I put that 
question. Young men and old men ! matrons and maidens ! I put 
the question to you. 

10. Young men ! whose virtues or vices are rolling the mighty 
burden of consequences on future times ; men of prosperous fortune 
and abounding wealth ! to whom God has intrusted the most 
glorious stewardship ever committed to mortals ; and ye of the 
softer sex ! to whom modern philanthropy hath opened a sphere 
of exertion, fair as your noblest sentiments and most beautiful 
virtues could desire ; I put the question to you ; I put it to you 
all. And remember, that futurity ; yes, the future welfare or wo 
of your children, shall answer it, in joy and gladness, or shall 
answer it in tears and blood ! 



LESSON IX. 

CLAIMS OF THE INDIANS. COL. DRAYTON. SOUTHERN REVIEW. 

1. We are not unapprized of the existence of a class of moralists, 
who limit the right to land on this continent to the Aborigines, 
and to those who derive their title from them. We shall not 
formally discuss this position, which we conceive to be more 
proper for the abstraction of schoolmen, than for the investigation 
of statesmen and jurists. Those lawless Indian hordes, once so 
powerful and terrible, capable of crushing the united bands of our 
ancestors, have now dwindled into comparative insignificance. 

2. Their numbers reduced, their warlike fire quenched ; instead 
of inspiring fear, they are objects of commiseration. Policy and 
humanity dictate that they should be treated w r ith considerate and 
liberal kindness, not, as some insist, because we have trampled 
upon their sovereignty, diminished their population, and usurped 



66 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

their soil, but because from the natural course of circumstances, 
they have become empoverished and helpless, the rude savage in- 
variably contracting the vices without participating in the virtues 
and useful attainments of his civilized neighbors. 

3. We have never been able to discover any force in the argu- 
ment, that as the Indians were the Aborigines of North America, 
and were scattered over its soil, they, therefore, by the law of na- 
ture, were the owners of it ; but we do discover an infinity of in- 
jurious consequences arising from the acknowledgment of the ex- 
clusive empire of the savage, over a territory never cultivated by 
his arm, nor seen by his eye. We can perceive neither justice, 
nor wisdom, nor humanity, in arresting the progress of order and 
science, that unproductive and barren wastes may be reserved for 
the roaming barbarian. 

4. We shall never justify the tyranny of the strong, the vigilant, 
and the enlightened, over the feeble, the indolent, and the simple. 
We contend for no more, than that our forefathers, with untroubled 
consciences, might seat themselves upon fields far distant from 
human habitations, might possess themselves of forests which the 
red man had never traversed, and of rivers and lakes, whose sur- 
face he had never ruffled, but in the distant pursuit of his enemy 
or his prey. 

5. " All mankind," says Vattell, " have an equal right to the 
things that have not yet fallen into the possession of any one ; and 
these things belong to the first possessor." " There is another 
celebrated question to which the discovery of the new world has 
principally given rise. It is asked, if a nation may lawfully take 
possession of a vast country, in which there are found none but 
erratic nations, incapable, by the smallness of their numbers, to 
people the whole ? 

6. " We have already said, that the earth belongs to the whole 
human race, and was designed to furnish it with subsistence : if 
each nation had resolved from the beginning, to appropriate to it- 
self a vast country, that the people might live only by hunting, 
fishing, and wild fruits, our globe would not be sufficient to main- 
tain a tenth part of its present inhabitants. People, then, have 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 67 

not deviated from the views of nature in confining Indians to their 
narrow limits." 

7. To lay down rules distinguishing cases, in which nations may, 
and in which they may not take possession of vacant lands, would 
be difficult, if not impracticable. It would, we presume, be denied 
by no one, that the means of the Indian's subsistence, in his accus- 
tomed modes, should not be invaded ; but that what he neither 
uses nor needs, nor ever could have an opportunity of even claim- 
ing, may be appropriated by others, would seem to be equally just. 
Upon this, as upon many other questions under the law of nature, 
perplexities will occur : in disposing of them we ought to be 
governed by the precepts of religion and morals, which teach us, 
that power is not synonymous with right, and that peculiar for- 
bearance should be observed towards . the defenceless and the 
ignorant. 



LESSON X. 

TO THE SUSQUEHANNA, ON ITS JUNCTION WITH THE 
LACKAWANA. MRS. SIGOURNEY. 

1. Rush on, glad stream, in thy power and pride, 
To claim the hand of thy promised bride ; 

For she hastes from the realm of the darkened mine, 
To mingle her murmured vows with thine ; 
Ye have met, ye have met, and your shores prolong 
The liquid tone of your nuptial song. 

2. Methinks ye wed, as the white man's son 
And the child of the Indian king have done. 
I saw thy bride, as she strove in vain 

To cleanse her brow from the carbon stain ; 
But she brings thee a dowry so rich and true, 
That thy love must not shrink from the tawny hue. 



68 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

3. Her birth was rude in a mountain-cell, 
And her infant freaks there are none to tell ; 
Yet the path of her beauty was wild and free, 
And in dell and forest she hid from thee ; 
But the day of her fond caprice is o'er, 

And she seeks to part from thy breast no more. 

4. Pass on, in the joy of thy blended tide, 
Through the land where the blessed Miquon* di< <1. 
No red man's blood, with its guilty stain, 

Hath cried unto God from that broad domain. 
With the seeds of peace they have sown the soil ; 
Bring a harvest of wealth for their hour of toil. 

5. On, on, through the vale where the brave ones sleep, 
Where the waving foliage is rich and deep ; 

I have stood on the mountain, and roamed through the glen 
To the beautiful homes of the western men ; 
Yet naught in that reign of glory could see 
So fair as the vale of Wyoming to me. 



LESSON XL 

PRESCOTT'S CONQUEST OF MEXICO. DESCRIPTION OF THE 

CAPITAL. 

1. The ancient city of Mexico covered the same spot occupied 
by the modern capital. The great causeways touched it in the same 

* A name given by the native Indians of Pennsylvania to William Penn. 
His kind and pacific treatment of them won their affections, and the Dela- 
wares were accustomed to call him their " beloved eider brother." — " The 
great and good Miquon came to us," said they, " bringing peace and good- 
will." His treaty made with them, under the great elm-tree at Shacka- 
maxon, where Kensington now stands, has been eloquently styled, " The 
only treaty ratified without an oath, and the only one that was never 
broken." 



i 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 09 

points ; the streets ran in much the same direction, nearly from 
north to south, and from east to west ; the cathedral in the plaza 
mayor stands on the same ground that was covered by the temple 
of the Aztec war-god ; and the four principal quarters of the town 
are still known among the Indians by their ancient names. 

2. Yet an Aztec of the days of Montezuma, could he behold the 
modern metropolis, which has risen with such phenix-like splendor 
from the ashes of the old, would not recognise its site as that of 
his own Tenochtitlan. For the latter was encompassed by the 
salt floods of Tezcuco, which flowed in ample canals through every 
part of the city ; while the Mexico of our day, stands high and dry 
on the main land, nearly a league distant, at its centre, from the 
water. The cause of this apparent change in its position is the 
diminution of the lake, which, from the rapidity of evaporation in 
these elevated regions, had become perceptible before the Conquest, 
but which has since been greatly accelerated by artificial causes. 

3. The average level of the Tezcucan lake, at the present day, 
is but four feet lower than the great square of Mexico. It is con- 
siderably lower than the other great basins of water which are 
found in the valley. In the heavy swell sometimes caused by 
long and excessive rains, the latter reservoirs anciently overflowed 
into the Tezcuco, which, rising with the accumulated volume of 
waters, burst through the dikes, and pouring into the streets of 
the capital, buried the lower' part of the buildings under a deluge. 
This was comparatively a light evil, when the houses stood on 
piles so elevated that boats might pass under them ; when the 
streets were canals, and the ordinary mode of communication was 
by water. 

4. But it became more disastrous, as the canals, filled up with 
the rubbish of the ruined Indian city, were supplanted by streets 
of solid earth, and the foundations of the capital were gradually 
reclaimed from the watery element. To obviate this alarming 
evil, the famous drain of Huehuetoca was opened at an enormous 
cost, in the beginning of the seventeenth century, and Mexico, 
after repeated inundations, has at length been placed above the 
reach of the flood. 



70 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

5. But what was gained to the useful in this ea-<-, m in 
others, has been purchased at the expense of the beautiful. By 
this shrinking of the waters, the bright towns and liainln 
washed by them, have been removed some miles into Che interior, 
while a barren strip of land, ghastly from the incrustatioii of salts 
formed on the surface, Iki^ taken the place of the growing regeta- 
tion which once enamelled the borders of th<> lake, ;in<i <>f the 
dark groves of oak, cedar, and Byoamon which threw their broad 
Bhadows over its bosom. 

6. The ckinamjxis, that archipelago of wandering islands, t«» 
which our attention was drawn iii the last chapter, bare, 
nearly disappeared. These had th«ir origin in the detached massei 
of earth, which, loosening from the shores, were still held together 
by the fibrous matter with which they were penetrated. The 
primitive Aztecs, in their poverty of land, availed th em se l vee of 
the hint thus afforded by nature. They constructed rafts of i 
rushes, and other fibrous materials, which, tightly knit together, 
formed a sufficient basis for the sediment that they drew up from 
the bottom of the lake. 

7. Gradually islands were formed, two or three hundred feet in 
length, and three or four fact in depth, with a rich stimulated soil, 
on which the economical Indian raised his vegetables and flowers 
for the markets of Tenochtitlan. Some of these chinampas were 
even firm enough to allow the growth of small trees, and to sustain 
a hut for the residence of the person that had charge of it, who 
with a long pole, resting on the sides or the bottom of the shallow 
basin, could change the position of his little territory at pleasure) 
which, with its rich freight of vegetable stores, was seen moving 
like some enchanted island over the water. 

8. The ancient dikes were three in number. That of Iztapalapan, 
by which the Spaniards entered, approaching the city from the 
south. That of Tepejacac, on the north, which, continuing the 
principal street, might be regarded, also, as a continuation of the 
first causeway. Lastly, the dike of Hacopan, connecting the 
island-city with the continent on the west. This last causeway, 
memorable for the disastrous retreat of the Spaniards, was about 



COBB'S SPEAKEB. 71 

two miles in length. They were all built in the same substantial 
manner, of lime and stone, were defended by draw-bridges, and 
were wide enough for ten or twelve horsemen to ride abreast. 

9. The rude founders of Tenochtitlan built their frail tenements 
of reeds and rushes on the group of small islands in the western 
part of the lake. In process of time, these were supplanted by 
more substantial buildings. A quarry in the neighborhood, of a 
red porous amygdaloid tetrontli, was opened, and a light, brittle 
stone drawn from it, and wrought with little difficulty. Of this 
their edifices were constructed, with some reference to architectural 
solidity, if not elegance. Mexico, as already noticed, was the resi- 
dence of the great chiefs, whom the sovereign encouraged, or rather 
compelled, from obvious motives of policy, to spend a part of the 
year in the capital. 

10. It was also the temporary abode of the great lords of 
Tezcuco and Hacopan, who shared nominally, at least, the sov- 
ereignty of the empire. The mansions of these dignitaries, and of 
the principal nobles, were on a scale of rude magnificence correspond- 
ing with their state. They were low, indeed; seldom of more 
than one floor, never exceeding two. But they spread over a 
wide extent of ground ; were arranged in a quadrangular form, 
with a court in the centre, and were surrounded by porticoes, em- 
bellished with porphyry and jasper, easily found in the neighbor- 
hood, while not unfrequently a fountain of crystal water in the 
centre shed a grateful coolness over the atmosphere. 

11. The dwellings of the common people were also placed on 
foundations of stone, which rose to the height of a few feet, and 
were then succeeded by courses of unbaked bricks, crossed occa- 
sionally, by wooden rafters. Most of the streets were mean and 
narrow. Some few, however, were wide and of great length. 
The principal street, conducting from the great southern causeway, 
penetrated in a straight line the whole length of the city, and 
afforded a noble vista, in which the long fines of low stone edifices 
were broken occasionally by intervening gardens, rising on terraces, 
and displaying all the pomp of Aztec horticulture. 



72 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

LESSON XII. 



NATURB. 

Thus, in thy world material, mighty mind, 

Not only that which solaces and shine9, 

The Rough, the Gloomy challenges our praise. 

1. The treasures of the mineral kingdom, being more concealed, 
are not as alluring to the senses, and are of course, to most men, 
less interesting than animals or vegetables ; but they present them- 
selves to the reflecting mind under innumerable points of view that 
are interesting, chiefly as affording the materials on which nature, 
by her slow, but certain operations, is continually producing 
changes that tend to augment the multiplication of plants, for 
the preservation and accommodation of animals; while man, 
in the meanwhile, is endowed with faculties which enable him to 
avail himself of the qualities they poetess for his own purposes. 

2. When we penetrate the dark and subterraneous magazine of 
Nature, we find veins fraught with the richest metals ; from 
hence comes that which gives value to the monarch's crown, and 
weight to his sceptre ; which, formed into coins, gives energy and 
life to traffic, rewards the toils of labor, and puts in the power of 
the affluent to warm the bosom of adversity, and make the widow 
and the orphan sing for joy ; or, beaten out into an inconceivable 
thinness, is made to cover with a transcendent lustre some of the 
coarsest of nature's productions, and render them ornamental in 
the palace of the great. 

3. Here also is laid up the pale brightness of the Silver, which, 
formed into a variety of domestic utensils, sets off with peculiar 
lustre the choicest dainties of the rich man's table. And here is 
found the ponderous Lead, from which the cool and clean cistern 
is formed, as well as those convenient and safe aqueducts, by which 
the useful element of water is conveyed into the very hearts of our 
dwellings. 

4. Here too are stores of Copper and Tin, by which sundry 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 73 

utensils, formed of the former metal, are rendered more safe and 
fit for use : and here do we find in profuse abundance Mines, 
whose contents, although they may not be reckoned of equal 
value, have been found to be more beneficial in their services to 
man, than any of those already mentioned. 

5. Iron furnishes the mechanic, the artist, and the laborer with 
their most useful implements and tools ; by Iron the farmer is 
enabled to tear up the most stubborn soil ; Iron secures our dwell- 
ings from the midnight thief, and confines, by its massy bars, the 
disturber of our peace to his gloomy cell ; by means of Iron, the 
vessel tossed with tempest is firmly attached to a place of safety, 
or prevented from being broken up by the raging elements, when 
overtaken by a storm in the midst of the watery waste. 

6. In these dark vaults are also found that subtle, insinuating 
metal, Quicksilver, which so much resembles a fluid ; the uses 
of which in philosophy and medicine are so well known, as well 
as its importance in various arts and sciences. 

7. From hence, also, are extracted a multitude of Mineral 
Salts and Saline Substances, together with a variety of Sul- 
phureous bodies. The astringent Alum, the green Borax, the 
volatile Nitre, the blue Vitriol of Hungary and Cyprus, the green 
of Germany and Italy, the shining Bismuth, the glittering Anti- 
mony, the brown-colored Cinnabar, the white Chalk, have all an 
origin in these dark apartments, as also that truly invaluable, black 
inflammatory substance, Coal, which ministers to our comfort in the 
room, presents "its services in the kitchen, assists the chemist and 
philosopher in their experiments, renders the work of the artist 
more easy, transforms the coarsest materials into transparency 
itself, by which means the light of day is admitted into our dwell- 
ings, while the cold inclemency of the weather is excluded ; the 
astronomer is enabled to extend his researches to worlds before in- 
visible to mortal eye ; the naturalist to observe the minutise of 
creation ; and the feeble eyes of old age furnished with new and 
invigorating powers. 

8. From hence, also, is derived that wonderful mineral whose 
magnetic quality guides the mariner with unerring precision, be- 

4 



74 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

yond the pillars of Hercules, and enables him to find Ins solitary 
way across the pathless deep. 

9. Here, also, in these dark recesses are conveniently laid up, 
a variety of strata of Stoves, and beds of Fossils; and hm 

rive their origin a number of valuable Jewels and transparent 
GEMS, as well as the firm and compact Marble, the Alabaster, the 
Porphyry, and the hard pellucid Flint. 

10. Here, also, are to be found those quarries of Stones from 
which are constructed secure and comfortable dwellings lor man 
and beast; by which the arms «■!' the pier an- strengthened t-> 
repel the surges of the sea; the rampart is raised above the basis 
nature had formed; our property secured from the depredations 
of intruders ; the arched bridge thrown across the broad and rapid 
stream, and the stupendous aqueduct carried over the deep-sunk 
glen. 

11. Here, too, are deposited a variety of curious Fossils and ex- 
traneous substances, which baffle the wisdom of the wise and puz- 
zle the reasoning of the naturalist to account for : and here are 
those vast layers of strata of earth, in all their variety, whose 
nature and uses are more apparent ; where the vegetable kingdom 
derives its support and nutriment, the trees of the forests spread 
their wide-extended roots, and the tender herb and flower of 
the field take hold of the dust ; where the pliable worm forces 
itself quietly along, the mole finds its darksome way, the foxes 
have holes, and the conies bury themselves. 

12. Here is that tough and tenacious species of earth which 
administers its services to man in such a variety of shapes, and 
acts as a substitute for other commodities in situations where nature 
has denied them. Are some in want of stones for building? 
Clay, by undergoing a process, becomes firm and hard, to with- 
stand the most rigid blasts of winter. Are there no slate quarries 
in the neighborhood ? Clay, in the shape of tiles, forms an excel- 
lent substitute. Are we in want of Lead for pipes to convey onr 
water from a distance ? Clay comes in seasonably to our aid. 

13. In short, by this mean-looking, dirty, and despised substance, 
we are abundantly supplied with a great variety of utensils and 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 75 

vessels, neat in their structure, cleanly in the use, and though 
cheap in the purchase, extremely valuable in point of utility. 
Here are also commodiously lodged, a variety of other useful 
earths, -which it would encroach too much on our limits to attempt 
to enumerate. 

14. These, with an innumerable variety of other useful and 
valuable materials, of which those w r e have mentioned may be 
considered as only a specimen, are safely locked up by Providence 
in this great store-house of Nature, and the key given to Industry, 
to take out and apply as necessity may require, or circumstances 
direct ; and in the disposition of wdiich we may be at a loss w r hat 
most to admire, the bounty of the Creator, in thus so largely 
making provision for our numerous wants, or his wisdom in placing 
them at such a convenient distance below the earth's surface, as 
neither to obstruct by their bulk the operations going on upon it, 
nor to be beyond the reach of moderate labor, when the necessities 
of man call aloud for their use. 

15. How inconvenient would it have been, and what small 
space left for cultivation, had these useful layers of Stone and 
Lime, Coal and Clay, been promiscuously scattered about in our 
fields and vineyards, or piled up in uncouth, naked, and deformed 
masses, without the slightest depth of soil for a covering ; and how 
inaccessible to human labor and ingenuity, or to w r hat an expense 
and loss of time must man have been put in coming at them, had 
they been sunk miles instead of feet into the bowels of the earth ? 
Reflecting upon these things, we have good reason to exclaim, in 
goodness as well as " in wisdom hast thou made them all I" 



LESSON XIII. 

THE PRAIRIES. JAMES HALL. 



1. The smaller prairies, or those in which the plain and woodland 
alternate frequently, are the most beautiful. The points of wood- 
land which make into them like so many capes or promontories, 



76 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

and the groves which are interspersed like islands, are in these 
lesser prairies always sufficiently near to be clearly defined to the 
eye, and to give the scene an interesting variety. We see plains, 
varying from a few hundred acres to several miles in extent, not 
perfectly level, but gently rolling and undulating, like the swelling 
of the ocean when nearly calm. 

2. The graceful curve of the surface is seldom broken, except when 
here and there the eye rests upon one of those huge mounds, which 
are so pleasing to the poet, and so perplexing to the antiquarian. 
The whole is overspread with grass and flowers, constituting a rich 
and varied carpet, in which a ground of lively green is ornamented 
with a profusion of the gaudiest hues, and fringed with a rich bor- 
der of forest and thicket. Deep recesses in the edge of the timber 
resemble the bays and inlets of a lake ; while occasionally a long 
vista, opening far back into the forest, invites the eye to roam off 
and refresh itself with the calm beauty of a distant perspective. 

3. The traveller as he rides along over these smaller prairies, finds 
his eye continually attracted to the edges of the forest, and his im- 
agination employed in tracing the beautiful outline, and in finding 
out resemblances between these wild scenes and the most tastefully 
embellished productions of art. The fairest pleasure-grounds, the 
noblest parks of European noblemen and princes, where millions 
have been expended to captivate the senses with Elysian scenes, are 
but mimic representations, on a reduced scale, of the beauties which 
are here spread by nature ; for here are clumps and lawns, groves 
and avenues, the tangled thicket, and the solitary tree, the length- 
ened vista, and the secluded nook, and all the varieties of scenic 
attraction, but on a plan so extensive as to offer a wide scope and 
endless succession of changes to the eye. 

4. There is an air of refinement here that wins the heart, even 
here, where no human residence is seen, where no foot of man 
intrudes, and where not an axe has ever trespassed on the beautiful 
domain. It is a wilderness shorn of every savage association, a 
desert that " blossoms as the rose." So different is the feeling 
awakened from any thing inspired by mountain or woodland scen- 
ery, that the instant the traveller emerges from the forest into the 



COBB'S SPEAKEK. 77 

prairie, he feels no longer solitary. The consciousness that he is 
travelling alone, and in a wilderness, escapes him ; and he indulges 
in the same pleasing sensations which are enjoyed by one who, 
having lost his way, and wandered bewildered among the labyrinths 
of a savage mountain, suddenly descends into rich and highly 
cultivated plains, and sees around him the delightful indications 
of taste and comfort. 

5. The gay landscape charms him. He is encompassed by the 
refreshing sweetness and graceful beauty of the rural scene ; and 
recognises, at every step, some well-remembered spot, or some ideal 
paradise, in which fancy had loved to wander, enlarged and beau- 
tiful, and as it were retouched by nature's hand. The clusters of 
trees so fancifully arranged, the forest outline so gracefully curved, 
seem to have been disposed by the hand of taste for the enjoyment 
of intelligent beings ; and so complete is the illusion, that it is dif- 
ficult to dispel the belief that each avenue leads to a village, and 
each grove conceals a splendid mansion. 

6. Widely different was the prospect exhibited by the more north- 
ern and central districts of the state. Vast in extent, the distant 
forest was either beyond the reach of the eye, or was barely discern- 
ible in the shapeless outline of blue faintly impressed on the hori- 
zon. As the smaller prairies resemble a series of larger and lesser 
lakes, so these boundless plains remind one of the ocean waste. 
Here and there a solitary tree, torn by the wind, stood alone like 
a dismantled mast in the ocean. xAs I followed my guide through 
this lonely region, my sensations were similar to those of the voy- 
ager when his bark is launched upon the sea. Alone, in a wide 
waste, with my faithful pilot only, I was dependant on him for 
support, guidance, and protection. 

7. With little to diversify the path, and nothing to please the eye 
but the carpet of verdure, which began to pall upon the sense, a 
feeling of dreariness crept over me ; a desolation of the spirit, such 
as one feels when crossed in love, or when very drowsy on a hot 
afternoon after a full dinner. But these are feelings which, like 
the sea-sickness of the' young mariner, are soon dispelled. I began 
to find a pleasure in gazing over this immense, unbroken waste, 



78 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

in watching the horizon under the vague hope of meeting a trav- 
eller and in following the deer with my eyes as they galloped off, 
their agile forms growing smaller and smaller as they receded, un- 
til they shrank into nothing. 

8. Sometimes I descried a dark spot at an immense distance, and 
pointed it out to my companion with a joy like that of the seaman 
who discovers a sail in the distant speck which floats on the ocean. 
When such an object happened to be in the direction of our path, 
I watched it with interest as it rose and enlarged upon the vision, 
supposing it at one moment to be a solitary horseman, and won- 
dering what manner of man he would turn out to be ; at another, 
supposing it might be a wild animal, or a wagon, or a pedestrian ; 
until, after it had seemed to approach for hours, I found it to be 
a tree. 



LESSON XIV 

-m'culloch. 



1. The invention of the compass is usually ascribed to Flavio 
Gioia, of Amalli, in Campania, about the year 1302 ; and the Ital- 
ians are strenuous in supporting this claim. Others affirm, that 
Marcus Paulus, a Venetian, having made a journey to China, 
brought back the invention with him in 1260. The French also 
lay claim to the honor of this invention, from the circumstance 
that all nations distinguish the north point of the card by a fleur 
de lis ; and with equal reason, the English have laid claim to the 
same honor, from the name compass, by which most nations have 
agreed to distinguish it. But, whoever were the inventors, or at 
whatever period this instrument was first constructed, it does not 
appear that it was used in navigation in Europe, before the year 
1420, or only a few years before the invention of printing. 

2. In consequence of the discovery of this instrument, the coasts 
of almost every land on the surface of the globe have been explored, 
and a regular intercourse between the most distant nations opened. 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 79 

The fate of the great human families, indeed, has been in a great 
measure decided by navigation. Is not the perpetual infancy of 
the Chinese owing chiefly to their ignorance of this art ? On the 
contrary, if the Japanese and the Malays exhibit a character manly 
and enterprising, in comparison of that of other Asiatics, it was 
formed at the epoch when their squadrons traversed the great East- 
ern ocean, which is at present filled with their colonies. 

3. What has kept the people of Africa stationary in ignorance 
but their inland situation, their destitution of gulfs and arms of the 
sea, their inaccessibility to navigation ? What has given their as- 
cendency to the European nations but their knowledge of naviga- 
tion, and the aptitude of their countries for carrying it on ? Since 
the compass and Columbus appeared, has not a new world seen 
our vessels land on its shores ? has not a new Europe arisen 1 and 
has not the Atlantic ocean become what the Mediterranean was 
before, the great highway and thoroughfare of the civilized, world ? 

4. But the march of civilization is far from being terminated ; 
the wonders we have witnessed may still be surpassed. The Eu- 
ropeans have not confined themselves to the shores of that Atlantic 
ocean, which, immense as it appeared to the Phoenician and the 
Greek navigators, is only an arm of the sea, compared to that great 
ocean, which under the names of the Indian, the Pacific, and the 
Eastern, extends from pole to pole. The American navigators 
have already crossed the whole of this aquatic hemisphere ; already 
British colonists have begun to settle in the innumerable islands 
which form, to the southeast of Asia, a fifth part of the world ; 
and Australasia, the most delightful country of the globe, will 
probably, ere many ages pass away, have reached the highest pin- 
nacle of civilization. 

5. Let another Cadmus carry thither that torch of religion and 
science which enlightens Europe ! Let colonists, fraught with our 
learning, found a new Greece in Otaheite or the Pelew Islands, 
then those rising grounds, which now produce only aromatic herbs, 
will be covered w T ith towns and palaces : bays, now shaded by a 
forest of palms, will display a forest of masts ; gold and marble 
will be extracted from the bowels of mountains as yet untouched 



80 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

by the miner ; coral and pearls will be dragged from the bottom 
of the sea to adorn the new capitals; and, one day, perhaps, Eu- 
rope, Asia, Africa, and America, will find equals and rivals in 
countries, whose existence, at this moment, scarcely occupies their 
attention. 



LESSON XV. 

THE CROWDED STREET. WILLIAM C. BRYANT. 

1. Let me move slowly through the street, 

Filled with an ever-shifting train, 
Amid the sound of steps that beat 

The murmuring walks like autumn rain. 

2. How fast the flitting figures come ! 

The mild, the fierce, the stony face ; 
Some bright with thoughtless smiles, and some 
Where secret tears have left their trace. 

3. They pass ; to toil, to strife, to rest ; 

To halls in which the feast is spread ; 
To chambers where the funeral guest 
In silence sits beside the dead. 

4. And some to^ happy homes repair, 

Where child en, pressing cheek to cheek, 
With mute caresses shall declare 
The tenderness they can not speak. 

5. And some, who walk in calmness here, 

Shall shudder as they reach the door, 
Where one who made their dwelling dear, 
Its flower, its light, is seen no more. 

6. Youth, w T ith pale cheek and slender frame, 

And dreams of greatness in thine eye ! 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 81 

Goest thou to build an early name, 
Or early in the task to die ? 

7. Keen son of trade, with eager brow ; 

Who is now fluttering in thy snare ? 
Thy golden fortunes, tower they now, 
Or melt the glittering spires in air ? 

8. Who of this crowd, to-night, shall tread 

The dance till daylight gleams again ? 
Who sorrow o'er the untimely dead ? 
Who writhe in throes of mortal pain ? 

9. Some, famine-struck, shall think how long 

The cold, dark hours, how slow the light ; 
And some, who flaunt amid the throng, 
Shall hide in dens of shame to-night. 

10. Each, where his tasks or pleasures call, 

They pass, and heed each other not. 
There is who heeds, who holds them all 
In his large love and boundless thought. 

11. These struggling tides of life that seem 

In wayward, aimless course to tend, 
Are eddies of the mighty stream 
That rolls to its appointed end. 



LESSON XVI. 

INTELLECT. R. W. EMERSON. 



1. The making a fact the subject of thought raises it. All that 
mass of mental and moral phenomena, which we do not make 
objects of voluntary thought, come within the power of fortune ; 
they constitute the circumstance of daily life ; they are subject to 

4* 



82 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

change, to fear, and hope. Every man beholds his human condi- 
tion with a degree of melancholy. As a ship aground is batter- 
ed by the waves, so man, imprisoned in mortal life, lies open to 
the mercy of coming events. But a truth, separated by the intel- 
lect, is no longer a subject of destiny. We behold it as a god 
upraised above care and fear. 

2. And so any fact in our life, or any record of our fancies or 
reflections, disentangled from the web of our unconsciousness, be- 
comes an object impersonal and immortal. It is the past restored, 
but embalmed. A better art than that of Egypt has taken fear 
and corruption out of it. It is eviscerated of care. It is offered for 
science. What is addressed to us for contemplation does not 
threaten us, but make us intellectual beings. 

3. We are all wise. The difference between persons is not in 
wisdom, but in art. I knew, in an academical club, a person who 
always deferred to me, who, seeing my whim for writing, fancied 
that my experiences had somewhat superior ; while I saw that his 
experiences were as good as mine. Give them to me, and I would 
make the same use of them. He held the old ; he holds the new ; 
I had the habit of tacking together the old and the new, which he 
did not use to exercise. This may hold in the great examples. 

4. Perhaps, if we should meet Shakspeare, we should not be con- 
scious of any steep inferiority ; no ! but of a great equality ; only that 
he possessed a strange skill of using, of classifying his facts, which 
we lacked. For, notwithstanding our utter incapacity to produce 
any thing like Hamlet and Othello, see the perfect reception this wit, 
and immense knowledge of life, and liquid eloquence finds in us all. 

5. If you gather apples in the sunshine, or make hay, or hoe 
corn, and then retire within doors, and shut your eyes, and press 
them with your hand, you shall still see apples hanging in the bright 
light, with boughs and leaves thereto, or the tasselled grass, or the 
corn-flags ; and this for five or six hours afterward. There lie the 
impressions on the retentive organ, though you knew it not. So 
lies the whole series of natural images with which your life has 
made you acquainted in your memory, though you knew it not ; 
and, a thrill of passion flashes light on their dark chamber, and the 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 83 

active power seizes instantly the fit image, as the word of its 
momentary thought. It is long ere we discover how rich we are. 
6. Our history, we are sure, is quite tame ; we have nothing to 
write, nothing to infer. But our wiser years still run back to the 
despised recollections of childhood, and always are we fishing up 
some wonderful article out of that pond, until, by and by, we be- 
gin to suspect that the biography of the one foolish person we 
know, is in reality, nothing less than the miniature paraphrase of 
the hundred volumes of the Universal History. 



LESSON XVII. 



SPEECH OF DR. PETER WILSON, A NATIVE IROQUOIS, BEFORE 
THE HISTORICAL SOCIETY OF THE CITY OF NEW YORK, AT THE 
UNIVERSITY, MAY 4, 1847. 

[Dr. Peter Wilson, in his native tongue, Wa-o-wa-wa-na-onk, or They 
heard his voice, said, he was very happy to meet the gentlemen of the 
Historical Society on this occasion, the Historical Society of Ga-nun-no, or 
the Empire State, as it is called by the Pale Faces.] 

1. "You see before you," said he, "an Iroquois, yes, a native 
American ! You have heard a history of the great Indian trails, 
the geography of the state of New York, before it was known to 
the Pale Faces. The land of Ga-nun-no, was once laced by these 
trails from Albany to Buffalo, trails that my people had trod for 
centuries, worn so deep by the feet of the Iroquois, that they be- 
came your own roads of travel, when my people no longer walked 
in them. 

2. " Your highways still lie in those paths, the same lines of com- 
munication bind one part of the ' Long House' to another. My 
friend has told you that the Iroquois have no monuments. These 
are their monuments. The land of Ga-nun-no, the Empire State, 
is our monument. We wish to lay our bones under its soil among 
those of our fathers. We shall not long occupy much room in 
living ; still less when we are gone." 



84 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

3. The time was already far advanced, but he was happy to 
have the opportunity for a few remarks on a subject in which the 
Iroquois were deeply interested. He was glad to hear the remarks 
of his friend, Mr. Morgan, and to observe the interest they excited. 
He had nothing to add on that subject. He would speak of his 
mission, which was now more important to himself as well as 
his race. 

4. He was here on behalf of a small band of his countrymen, 
who had been by fraud induced to leave their lands in the state of 
New York, and emigrate to the west of the Mississippi. They were 
a portion of the Iroquois, who were removed in 1846, deceived by 
the representations of the agents of the government. He had 
been to Washington to seek relief for them. 

5. The facts were admitted by the department, with regard to 
the deceptions of the agent and the sufferings of this unfortunate 
people. They have also been substantiated here. After their 
arrival west of the Mississippi, disease came among them A large 
portion were laid in the bosom of their mother earth. Some chiefs 
who had returned, represented their condition as deplorable. Not 
one but would return, but they have not means. 

6. One chief, who returned, said to another as he saw his friends 
dying off, " You see we are going into our graves. Graves already 
prepared, people falling into them. Let us go back to the country 
of our fathers." The old chief refused to go. He had been de- 
ceived and had been made to deceive his people. " I shall not 
leave ; leave my friends to death. More they die here ; I will 
stay. I will leave my bones here. If you leave, go ! You al- 
ways told me it was good country. I stood by you. You deceived 
me. You have deceived my people. They not to blame." When 
his last hour arrived, he told his wife, " Lay my bones here ; do 
not take them back to New York, but tell them I fell here as a 
brave warrior. I was at Chippewa and Fort Erie ; never deserted 
my people ; therefore I will leave my bones here among my people. 
I shall be contented." * 

1. After his death, all were sick. They were twelve miles from 
Fort Scott. The sun poured his rays upon them ; they were forced 



COBB'S SPEAEER. 85 

to crawl into the ravines to escape the burning heat A company 
of soldiers, though put there to shoot down Indians, had the hu- 
manity to take pity on them. They ministered to them, gave 
them water and food. 

8. The subject has been laid before the government. The de- 
partment disclaimed the acts of its agents ; but could do nothing 
without the action of Congress. He was advised to apply to the 
Legislature, and had done so : but nothing was to be expected 
from them at present, although they made an examination of the 
case. 

9. The facts were plain. To dwell on them would be too long. 
The Indians were there suffering and desirous to return. He asked 
all friends of humanity to aid them. He approved the sympathy 
with suffering in other lands, and asked that the suffering remnant 
of the once powerful Iroquois might be included in the sphere of 
that generous philanthropy, which sent relief to the Greek, the 
Pole, and the inhabitants of the British Islands. 

10. Dr. Wilson then referred to the history of the intercourse 
of the original inhabitants with the whites, and particularly the 
relations of the Iroquois to the English Colony of New York. 
The history of that intercourse was aggression, retaliation, exter- 
mination. 

11. "I have been told," said he, "that the first object of this 
Society is to preserve the history of the State of New York. You, 
all of you. know, that alike in its wars and its treaties the Iroquois, 
long before the Revolution, formed a part of that history ; that 
they were then one in council with you, and were taught to be- 
lieve themselves one in interest. In your last war with England, 
your red brother, your elder brother, still came up to help you, 
as of old, on the Canada frontier ! 

12. "Have we, the first holders of this prosperous region, no 
longer a share in your history • Glad were your forefathers to sit 
down upon the threshold of the ' Long House ;' rich, did they then 
hold themselves, in getting the mere sweepings from its door. 
Had our forefathers spurned you from it when the French were 
thundering at the opposite end, to get a passage through and drive 



86 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

you into the sea, whatever lias been the fate of other Indians, the 
Iroquois might still have been a nation ; and I, too, might have 
had — a country ! 

13. There is a tradition among the Iroquois race that no white 
man can enter the regions of happiness of the Great Spirit, except 
General Washington ; and he only to within a certain distance, 
where the sweepings of the house are thrown out, and that is a 
great blessing. And what is the reason ? A great many persons 
say the Indians are bad, they are savages ; and they are taught 
this when a child ; perhaps the first book the child looks at he 
will see a picture of some Indians, yelling and shouting, and thus 
they are taught to consider them as savages. 

14. But this is a mistake; they are as kind as any other peo- 
ple ; the Great Spirit made the Indian and gave him feelings, the 
same as the Pale Faces. The Indian loves his child as much as 
the Pale Faces, and I am inclined to think even a little more. You 
never hear of an Indian disinheriting his child, for his religion 
teaches him to consider a child a blessing. Now when the Pale 
Faces heard of the confederacy of the Six Nations, they came from 
the east, and they said, ' The Great Spirit made us as well as you, 
and therefore he is our father and we are brothers.' 

15. The Indian thought this good logic ; but they said, ' We have 
a father across the great salt water, the King of England ; and he 
is also your father ; and when his enemies fight against him, you 
must fight against his enemies ;' and the Indian said he would. 
Well, the first thing we knew, the red-coats were fighting at Bun- 
ker Hill ; the son was fighting against his father : so we took our 
tomahawks and fought against these unnatural sons. But the sons 
conquered, and England was compelled to grant the independence 
of her colonies. 

16. Then the Pale Faces came, and they said, ' You fought with 
us ; you have forfeited your right to this land and must go away ;' 
but General Washington said, ' Come back, and remain in your 
land, and make your homes with us.' Then the prophet said, the 
white men are bad, and can not dwell in the regions of the Great 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 87 

Spirit, except General Washington, and he conkl only be admitted 
to the distance I have stated. 

17. There was a Prophet of our race, in early times, who 
prophesied that the days would come when troubles would fall 
upon them, so that they would knock their heads together. When 
that time came, they were to search for a large palm-tree, and 
shelter their heads beneath its shadow ; let their bodies be buried 
at its roots, and cause that tree to nourish and become the fitting 
monument of the Iroquois race. That time has now come ; we 
are in trouble and distress ; we knock our heads together in ago- 
ny, and we desire to find the palm-tree, that we may lie down 
and die beneath it ; we wish the palm-tree to be the State of New 
York, that it may be the monument of the Iroquois." 



LESSON XVIII. 

THE TURKS AT A FIRE. DE VERE, SKETCHES. 

1. I was not long at Constantinople before I came in for what is 
of very frequent occurrence there, namely, a fire. Indeed, I believe 
that, as a storm is said to be always going on in some part of the 
sea, so a conflagration, larger or smaller, is always raging in some 
part of the narrow wooden streets of Stamboul. 

2. The people have few public amusements, and this is con- 
sidered one of the best, if I may judge by the demeanor of the 
crowds, whose singular bearing was to me more interesting than 
the spectacle I witnessed in common with them. At first I knew 
not what it meant. I had observed that vast multitudes were 
moving with what, for a Turk, is haste, toward the court of one 
of their mosques, and, stationing themselves, as soon as they had 
reached it, on the steps, balustrades, and every spot whence a view 
was commanded. 

3. Joining their company, I discovered the cause of the assembly 
in a whole street from which clouds of smoke were rising, and 



88 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

from which it was every moment expected that the flames would 
burst. Nothing could exceed the business-like alacrity of those 
who struggled for a place in the balconies, or the placid enjoyment 
of those who had attained one. In expectation of the event, piles 
of carpets, pillows, and cushions had been already brought from 
the neighboring houses, and placed wherever room could be found. 

4. On those comfortable seats the multitude had established 
themselves, the men in one part, sedately smoking, the women in 
another, now looking on, and now playing with their children. 
In a moment, refreshments of all sorts were provided ; sweetmeats, 
confectionery, and sherbet, by a number of rival purveyors, who 
advanced with unalarmed alacrity, amid the smoke and falling 
sparks, plainly considering the scene of destruction a sort of 
' benefit,' got up for their especial behoof, and unceremoniously 
elbowing to one side the police, who rushed, with pails of water 
on their heads, to the rescue of the burning houses. 

5. in a few minutes more, the flames burst oat with a loud 
crash mounting high into the heavens, and flinging an exciting and 
pleasurable heat into the face of the crowds, who, without ever re- 
moving their pipes, (except to drink,) gazed with silent but impas- 
sioned interest on a scene which, to them, was no more a matter 
of surprise than a street-preacher would be in Edinburgh, a ' Fun- 
ziane' at Rome, or Punchinello at Naples. Among the calm 
crowd of spectators were the proprietors of the burning houses, 
smoking like their neighbors, and well assured that their loss had 
been determined by Allah long before the prophet was born. 



LESSON XIX. 

RECOLLECTIONS OF CHINA. MRS. CAROLINE H. BUTLER. 

1. Of the most pleasing reminiscences of my sojourn at Macao 
is that derived from the acquaintance formed with Mr. Gutziaff 
and his amiable lady. Mr. Gutziaff is too well known as a travel- 
ler to require any explanation as to who or what he may be. 



COBB'S SPEAKEK. 89 

When speaking of China, Mr. Gutzlaff appeared perfectly enthusi- 
astic, and willing to devote all his time and labors to the conversion 
and improvement of the natives. 

2. On Sundays he usually preached to them in their own lan- 
guage. He has penetrated far into the interior of that vast 
empire, and describes those he has visited as being wonderful. In 
no country on the face of the globe, he observed, had the hand of 
man accomplished such stupendous works as in China. Their dikes 
and canals, he considers, the eighth and ninth wonders of the world. 
The conversation of Mr Gutzlaff is extremely versatile and enter- 
taining. 

3. Mrs. Gutzlaff at that time had a large school at Macao, 
which on their invitation we visited several times. It was a pleas- 
ing scene to view Mrs. Gutzlaff sitting in the midst of her scholars, 
giving them instruction from the New Testament, in lieu of the 
four celebrated books of Confucius, which are considered the 
summum bonum of Chinese education. There were between 
thirty and forty pupils attached to this school, of whom only two 
were girls, and those blind ! These scholars all reside under the 
same roof with Mr. Gutzlaff, at whose expense, as I was informed, 
they were fed and clothed. 

4. Blindness and ophthalmia prevail to a distressing degree in 
China. One can not walk through the narrow, crooked streets 
of Macao without encountering many of these miserable beings. 
At the gate of Lazarus, in particular, there are always congregated the 
most wretched objects it is possible to conceive ; the lame, the halt, 
and blind ; poor famishing beggars, all rags and filth, here stretch 
themselves under the large India fig-trees, or around the brink of 
the fountain which is there excavated. There is probably no 
nation in which there is so much suffering as among the lower 
order of the Chinese. 

5. The Caza Garden at Macao is celebrated for containing within 
its precincts the cave in which Luis De Camoens composed his 
Lusiad, and being one of the greatest lions of the place, on one 
bright and balmy afternoon, attended by our compradore, we strolled 
thither. 



90 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

C. The coup cToeil as we entered the garden was truly 
beautiful ; it was like an actual peep into fairy land. It is of 
great extent, covering some acres of ground, and embraces within 
its precincts some of the most retired and romantic spots one can 
imagine. It seems as if nature, in one of her wildest moods, had 
here combined all her powers to form a scene of perfect romance, 
with which art has so nicely blended as to increase, instead of 
diminishing, the effect. 

7. Large masses of rocks from twenty to thirty feet in height, 
their summits crowned with beautiful trees, rise in different parte 
of the garden. Some of these rocks are entirely bare, while others 
are covered with a delicate creeping vine, or the roots of the banian- 
tree form a beautiful and curious net-work over them. The walks 
are broad and bordered with a variety of trees and shrubs: the 
orange-tree, the double-flowering peach, magnolias, japonicas, 
pomegranates, beautiful roses and carnations, and many others 
whose names were unknown to me, but whose fragrance filled the 
air. 

8. One roves through these delightful alleys, charmed by the 
sweet odor of roses and the melody of the birds. One moment 
finds you encircled by immense rocks, pile upon pile ; a step or 
two farther, and you are beneath the shade of the banian, its rich 
dark foliage waving over you, while the roots are twisting and 
twining in a thousand fantastic shapes over every thing around. 
At almost every turn, a new and beautiful view was presented to 
us. From one quarter rose the majestic Lapa ; the waters of the 
inner harbor gently laving its base, while the numerous Portuguese 
and Chinese craft floating on its bosom, were plainly reflected in 
the calm transparence. 

9. Again ; you are looking down as from a precipice upon the 
busy tumult of a Chinese village, with its gay decorations of colored 
paper hung around the doors and walls as propitiatory offerings to 
" Josh f the hum of voices, the yelping of their ugly yellow dogs, 
the beatings of gongs and cries of children coming " full and thick 
upon the ear." From another quarter the island of Kean-shan 
stretches far in the distance, and over the narrow neck of land 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 91 

connecting it with Macao, a party of English and Americans were 
gayly galloping along the beach. 

10. From the centre of the garden rises a high and irregular 
peak on which he erected a summer-house. To this we commenced 
our ascent ; at one time almost sliding along a hard clay path 
as smooth as marble, or by steps excavated in the solid rock, the 
whole distance guarded by elephants, bisons, and dragons formed 
of clay, with orange and peach-trees, magnolias, and pinks 
sprouting from their backs. When we had nearly reached 
the summit, a quiet path diverged to the left; into this we 
turned, and in a few moments found ourselves before the cave of 
Camoens. 

11. The cave is formed by the close approximation of three 
large rocks, which uniting at the top, form a circular little cell, 
not large enough, however, to contain more than two persons. 
Here it was, then, that the unfortunate poet, banished from his 
country, and from his fair mistress Catharine D'Attayde ; here it 
was that, shut out as it were from the world, he sought to forget, 
amid the scenes of nature, the cruelty of his king and country. 

12. But the muse, fickle goddess as she is, deserted him not ; 
how could she ? for every breeze that played amid the branches 
waving before his rocky abode, came laden with the richness of 
the orange blossom, and his ear caught no sound save the sweet 
melody of the birds, or the dashing of the surf on the rocky beach 
below him. When afterward, recalled to his country, a few years 
saw him a beggar in the streets of his own " fair Lisbon," depend- 
ant upon the alms bestowed by the hand of charity on his faithful 
slave, did not his heart yearn for this hallowed retreat % 

13. Leaving the cave, we continued our ascent to the summer- 
house, from which the view is very fine. The Praya-Granda with 
its white dwellings, sweeping in such a graceful curve from 
the water ; the several forts, convents and churches, crowning each 
lofty eminence around, and the extensive view of the ocean, with 
Lantau, the Niue Islands, and Lintin Peak in the distance, com- 
bined to render the landscape most enchanting. 

14. As we returned, we passed through the campo, and ascended 



92 COBB'S SPEAKER.^ 

Mont Charil, on which stands Fort Guia. The campo is a largo 
open field, covering some acres, and ascends gradually to Mont 
Charil, the whole surface being thickly scattered with graves. In 
deed, every hill is a sepulchre in China. These graves are in thf 
form of a horse-shoe ; and, from little st a tea placed at their sid< 
usually flutter small strips of white cloth or paper. 

15. Once a year, in the month of August, the Chinese cJeWa i 
the u Festival of the Dead." They then visit the graves ->f tlv r 
departed relatives, taking with them such provisions as they c m 
afford, which they place at the head of the grave. They t' en 
burn quantities of gold and silver paper, believing that the a. .lies 
of the same will become money in the other world; this their 
friends receive, and will therefore be enabled to subsist comfortably 
until another festival returns ! 

1G. The respect and affection the Chinese bear the dead are an 
object of admiration. They will deprive themselves of any com- 
fort to procure the gold and silver paper for the use of the deceased ; 
and unhappy indeed he who dies, knowing that he has no relative 
that may thus reverence his remains. This festival for the dead 
lasts nearly a week ; and, during that time, it is said, the hills seem 
to be on fire. 

17. Pursuing our walk through this vast cemetery, we soon 
reached the highest elevation of the campo, and looked down 
upon the green paddy fields stretched below us. These are on a 
flat which is sometimes overflowed ; here they cultivate their rice 
and vegetables. There is no division by fences, but all is one 
bright green surface. Several Chinese laborers were busy watering 
their respective tracts ; they have large reservoirs of water around 
the border of their land ; two men stand, one on each side, holding 
a long wire or flexible pole, to the middle of which hangs a 
bucket ; this they dash into the reservoir, and then swing the con- 
tents over the field. They perform this novel mode of watering 
with great apparent ease and rapidity. 

18. We at length reached the summit of Mont Charil, and 
passing through a large gate, from which waved the flag of Por- 
tugal, we entered the fort. There was not an officer or soldier in 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 93 

the garrison, they having all marched over to the Monte Fort, to 
celebrate the installation of a new governor ; and while we were 
admiring and pointing out to each other particular views of 
beauty, the firing from the Monte Fort commenced ; the loud re- 
verberation echoing and re-echoing through the islands and hills 
around. 

19. Every thing within the fort was neat and orderly; the 
court was paved with large flat stones ; on the walls were mounted 
eighteen bronze and iron cannon, and at one extremity rises a 
huge stone cross. We entered the chapel attached to the fort ; it 
is very small, the walls white and painted around the ceiling with 
wreaths cf flowers, and in various niches are waxen images of the 
Virgin and Saints. 



LESSON" XX. 

SOCIAL DUTIES. G. B. EMERSON. 

1. Next in importance are our social duties ; those which 
arise from our relation to our fellow-creatures, and are compre- 
hended in the second great commandment of the New Testament. 
These should be daily and regularly explained and enforced. The 
general neglect of this most important part of education seems to 
proceed partly from a belief that it is sufficiently provided for by 
the instruction of parents, and of the ministers of religion. If 
instruction in social duties were sufficiently given elsewhere, it 
would indeed be superfluous to insist upon it in school. But this 
is far from the case. 

2. A large portion of the parents whose children fill the public 
schools, are either disinclined, or are unqualified by their want of 
education, or by the engrossing nature of their occupations, to 
give suitable instruction in social duties ; or, what produces the 
same effect, they conceive themselves unqualified. At home, 
then, the instruction is often not obtained. Neither is it, in very 



94 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

many cases, at church. Many children are of necessity unfre- 
quent attendants at church ; some go not at all, and to many 
more, the instructions of the pulpit are not suited. These are 
usually addressed to grown men ; and if, occasionally, direct 
addresses are made to children, such as are present ; they are 
naturally and properly much more occupied with religious than 
with social duties. 

3. A regular course of instruction from the pulpit upon social 
duties, adapted to the capacities of children, is, I believe, very 
rare. This may be right, and I do not mean to say that it is not. 
But it certainly is not right, that, in a country like our>, regular, 
systematic instruction in the social relations and duties should 
no where be given. The schools are eminently a social institution. 
They are provided by law, maintained at the public expense, and 
intended for the instruction of the whole community in those 
things which are essential to the public good. They are, there- 
fore, especially, on every account, the place in which instruction 
in social duties should be given. 

4. The discovery has been made, and in some places men have 
begun to act upon it, that it is better to prevent the commission 
of crime, than to punish it when committed ; that a merciful code 
of school laws may be made to take the place of a sanguinary 
code of criminal laws ; that good schools are better than bad 
jails ; that a land schoolmaster is a more useful member of 
society than a savage executioner ; that capital instruction is bet- 
ter than capital punishment ; that it is better and easier to teach 
a boy to love a heavenly Judge, and keep his commandments, 
than to teach a man to fear an earthly judge, after he has broken 
the commandments ; that it is more pleasant to spend a long 
life in the service of God and mankind, and the enjoyment of 
health and prosperity, than to divide a short life between the 
poor-house and the prison, and end it on a gallows ; that it is 
better to prepare men to fill their own pockets honestly, than to 
tempt them to empty their neighbors' dishonestly. 

5. If these are truths, the teacher has a most important public 
duty to perform. If it be true that, to form the child, by daily 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 95 

instruction and daily training, to a regard for the laws of justice, 
integrity, truth, and reverence, so that he shall grow up mindful 
of the rights of others, a good neighbor, a good citizen, and an 
honest man, is better and more reasonable, than to leave him in 
these respects unformed or misled, and to endeavor afterward to 
correct his mistakes and enlighten his moral sense by the weekly 
instructions of the pulpit, and the influence of the laws of the 
land; the teacher must give regular and systematic instruction 
in social duties. 

6. If these are truths, the teacher has a great work to peiform. 
He has to lay deep the foundations of public justice. He has to 
give that profound and quick sense of the sacredness of right, and 
the everlasting obligation of truth, without which, law will have 
no sanctity, private contracts no binding force, the pulpit no 
reverence, justice no authority. If these are truths, and if it is a 
greater thing to form than to reform, it becomes all parents 
to look to it, what manner of men they have for their children's 
teachers. 



LESSON XXI. 

ON SEEING A BEAUTIFUL BOY AT PLAY. N. P. WILLIS. 

1. Down the green slope he bounded. Raven curls 
From his white shoulders by the winds were swept, 
And the clear color of his sunny cheek 

Was bright with motion. Through his open lips 

Shone visibly a delicate line of pearl, 

Like a white vein within a rosy shell, 

And a dark eye's clear brilliance, as it lay 

Beneath his lashes, like a drop of dew 

Hid in the moss, stole out as covertly 

As starlight from the edging of a cloud. 

2. I never saw a boy so beautiful. 

His step was like the stooping of a bird, 



96 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

And his limbs melted into grace like things 
Shaped by the wind of summer. He was like 
A painter's fine conception ; such a one 
As he would have of Ganymede, and treep 
Upon his palette that he could not win 
The vision to his easel. 

3. Who could paint 

The young and shadowless spirit ? Who could chain 
The visible gladness of a heart that li\ 
Like a glad fountain, in the eye of light, 
With an unbreathing pencil ? Nature's gift 
Has nothing that is like it. 

4. Sun and stream, 

And the new leaves of June, and the young lark 
That flies away into the depths of heaven, 
Lost in his own wild music, and the breath 
Of spring-time, and the summer eve, and noon 
In the cool autumn, are like fingers swept 
Over sweet-toned affections ; but the joy 
That enters to the spirit of a child, 
Is deep as his young heart : his very breath, 
The simple sense of being, is enough 
To ravish him, and like a thrilling touch 
He feels each moment of his life go by. 

5. Beautiful, beautiful childhood ! with a joy 
That like a robe is palpable, and flung 
Out by your every motion ! delicate bud 
Of the immortal flower that will unfold 
And come to its maturity in heaven ! 

I weep your earthly glory. 

6. 'Tis a light 
Lent to the new-born spirit that goes out 
With the first idle wind. It is the leaf 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 97 

Fresh flung upon the river, that will dance 
Upon the wave that stealeth out its life, 
Then sink of its own heaviness. 

7. The face 

Of the delightful earth will to your eye 
Grow dim ; the fragrance of the many flowers 
Be noticed not, and the beguiling voice 
Of nature in her gentleness, will be 
To manhood's senseless ear inaudible. 
I sigh to look upon thy face, young boy ! 



LESSON XXII. 

HISTORY OF ENGLAKD. MACAULAY. 

1. If we would study with profit the history of our ancestors, 
we must be constantly on our guard against that delusion which 
the well-known names of families, places, and ofiices naturally 
produce, and must never forget that the country of which we read 
was a very different country from that in which we live. In every 
experimental science there is a tendency towards perfection. In 
every human being there is a wish to meliorate his own condition. 
These two principles have often sufficed, even when counteracted 
by great public calamities and by bad institutions, to carry civ- 
ilization rapidly forward. 

2. No ordinary misfortune, no ordinary misgovernment, will do 
so much to make a nation wretched, as the constant progress of 
physical knowledge and the constant effort of every man to better 
himself will do to make a nation prosperous. It has often been 
found that profuse expenditure, heavy taxation, absurd commercial 
restrictions, corrupt tribunals, disastrous wars, seditions, persecu 
tions, conflagrations, inundations, have not been able to destroy 
capital so fast, as the exertions of private citizens have been able 
to create it. 

5 



98 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

3. It can easily be proved that, in our own land, the national 
wealth has, during at least six centuries, been almost uninterrupt- 
edly increasing; that it was greater under the Tndors than under 
the Plantagenets ; that it was greater under the Stuarts than under 
the Tudors; that in spite of battles, sieges, and confiscations, it 
was greater on the day of the Restoration than on the day when 
the Long Parliament met; that, in spite of maladministration, of 
extravagance, of public bankruptcy, of two costly and unsuccessful 
wars, of the pestilence and of the tire, it was greater on the day of 
the death of Charles the Second than on the day of his restoration, 

4. This progress, having continued during many ages, became 
at length, about the middle of the eighteenth century, portentously 
rapid, and has proceeded, during the nineteenth, with accelerated 
velocity. In consequence, partly of our geographical and partly of 
our moral position, we have, during several generations, been ex- 
empt from evils which have elsewhere impeded the efforts and 
destroyed the fruits of industry. While every part of the conti- 
nent, from Moscow to Lisbon, has been the theatre of bloody and 
devastating wars, no hostile standard has been seen here but as a 
trophy. While revolutions have taken place all around us, our 
government has never once been subverted by violence. During 
a hundred years, there has been in our island no tumult of suffi- 
cient importance to be called an insurrection. 

5. The law has never been borne down, either by popular fury 
or by regal tyranny. Public credit has been held sacred. The 
administration of justice has been pure. Even in times which 
might by Englishmen be justly called evil times, we have enjoyed 
what almost every other nation in the w r orld would have consider- 
ed as an ample measure of civil and religious freedom. Every 
man has felt entire confidence that the state w r ould protect him in 
the possession of w T hat had been earned by his diligence, and hoard- 
ed by his self-denial. Under the benignant influence of peace and 
liberty, science has flourished, and has been applied to practical 
purposes on a scale never before known. 

6. The consequence is that a change to which the history of 
the old world furnishes no parallel has taken place in our country. 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 99 

Could the England of 1685 be, by some magical process, set be- 
fore our eyes, we should not know one landscape in a hundred, or 
one building in ten thousand. The country gentleman would not 
recognise his own fields. The inhabitant of the town would not 
recognise his own street. Every thing has been changed, but the 
great features of nature, and a few massive and durable works of 
human art. 

7. We might find out Snowdon and Windermere, the Cheddar 
Cliffs and Beachy Head. We might find out here and there a 
Norman minster, or a castle which witnessed the wars of the 
Roses. But, with such rare exceptions, every thing would be strange 
to us. Many thousands of square miles which are noAV rich corn- 
land and meadow, intersected by green hedge-rows, and dotted with 
villages and pleasant country-seats, would appear as moors over- 
grown with furze, or fens abandoned to wild ducks. 

8. We should see straggling huts built of wood and covered 
with thatch, where we now see manufacturing towns, and sea-ports 
renowned to the farthest ends of the world. The capital itself 
would shrink to dimensions not much exceeding those of its pres- 
ent suburb on the south of the Thames. Not less strange to us 
would be the garb and manners of the people, the furniture and 
the equipages, the interior of the shops and dwellings. Such a 
change in the state of a nation seems to be at least as well entitled 
to the notice of an historian, as any change of the dynasty or of 
the ministry. 



LESSON XXIII. 



SUPPLY OF WATER IN CONSTANTINOPLE. SKETCHES OF TURKEY, 

BY DR. DEKAY. 

1. Every stranger is struck with the numerous contrivances 
around Constantinople for supplying it with pure and wholesome 
water. Under the Greek emperors, Constantinople was supplied 
with water by these means, and large reservoirs were established 
in different parts of the city. These latter, however, have now 



100 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

gone into disuse, as expensive and inadequate for the purposes 
intended. 

2. Under the present system, all the water-works about Con- 
stantinople are under the management of an officer, termed soo 
naziri, or inspector of waters. It is his business to keep them in 
good repair, and be is responsible for any accidents which may 
obstruct or diminish the supply. As no time is to be lost to re- 
pair injuries, this officer is clothed with great power, and he com- 
pels every one to assist in restoring the line of communication. 

3. This resembles the corvee of old France in sonde BMteore, 
but is much more oppressive; for, the 800 naziri fines them rigor- 
ously all who dwell in the vicinity of any breach or injury, unless 
they give immediate information of the disaster. So important 
are these water-courses considered, that the sultans have always been 
in the habit of mating annually a formal visit of inspection, 
which is accompanied with much ceremony, and ordering such 
improvements and alterations as are deemed necessary. 

4. It is impossible to travel any where in the vicinity of Con- 
stantinople without being struck with the great pains taken by the 
Turks to treasure up every rill, or the minutest trickle from the 
face of the rocks. These are carefully collected in marble or brick 
reservoirs, and the surplus is conveyed by pipes to the main stream. 
In passing through sequestered dells, the traveller frequently comes 
suddenly upon one of these sculptured marble fountains, which 
adds just enough of ornament to embellish the rural scene. 

5. They are frequently decorated with inscriptions, setting forth 
the greatness and goodness of Providence, and inviting the weary 
traveller to make due acknowledgments for the same. Unlike our 
civilized ostentation, the name of the benevolent constructer never 
appears on these sculptured stones. The quaint Turkish adage, 
which serves as a rule of conduct, is well exemplified in this, as 
w r ell as in many other instances ; " Do good and throw it into the 
sea ; if the fishes do not know it, God will." 

6. Among the hills at various distances, from fifteen to twenty 
miles from the city, are constructed large artificial reservoirs. 
These are termed bendtx, a word of Persian origin, and are built 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 101 

in the following manner : advantage is taken of a natural situation, 
such as a narrow valley or gorge between two mountains, and a 
strong and substantial work of masonry is carried across, sufficiently 
high to give the water its required level. Four of these bendts 
were visited and examined, but there were several others which we 
did not see. A description of one of the largest will give an idea 
of the manner in which they are constructed. 

7. A solid wall of marble masonry, eighty feet wide, and sup- 
ported by two large buttresses, rises to the height of a hundred 
and thirty feet from the bottom of the valley. It is four hundred 
feet long, and the top is covered with large marble slabs of dazzling 
brilliancy. On the side next the reservoir, a substantial marble 
balustrade, three feet in height, gives a finish to this Cyclopean 
undertaking. 

8. A tall marble tablet indicates the date of its erection, or 
more probably of its repair or re-construction. From the date, 
1211, it appears to have been built about forty-six years ago. It 
is called the Validay Bendt, and is said to have been built by the 
mother of the reigning sultan. It is furnished with a waste-gate ; 
and, at a short distance below, the water from the reservoir is 
carried across a ravine by a short aqueduct. 

9. About two miles from this is another bendt, erected in 1163, 
which corresponds to the year 1*749. This is also a magnificent 
work, although inferior in size to the preceding. They both supply 
the aqueduct of Batchikeni, which, as has already been stated, 
furnishes the suburbs of Pera and Galata with water. Beyond 
Belgrade are other reservoirs. These supply Constantinople proper 
with water. 



LESSON XXIV. 

PROVERBS OF SOLOMON. BIBLE. 

1. The fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge ; but 
fools despise wisdom and instruction. 

My son, hear the instruction of thy father, and forsake not the 
law of thy mother : 



102 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

For they shall be an ornament of grace unto thy head ; and 
chains about thy neck. 

2. My son, forget not my law ; but let thine heart keep my 
commandments : 

For length of days, and long life, and peace, shall they add to 
thee. 

Let not mercy and truth forsake thee ; bind them about thy 
neck ; write them upon the table of thine heart : 

So shalt thou find favor and good understanding in the sight of 
God and man. 

3. Happy is the man that findeth wisdom, and the man that 
getteth understanding : 

For the merchandise of it is better than the merchandise of sil- 
ver, and the gain thereof than fine gold. 

She is more precious than rubies ; and all the things thou canst 
desire are not to be compared unto her. 

Length of days is in her right hand ; and in her left hand 
riches and honor. 

Her ways are ways of pleasantness, and all her paths are peace. 

4. A wise son maketh a glad father ; but a foolish son is the 
heaviness of his mother. 

Hear, ye children, the instruction of a father ; and attend to 
know understanding. 

Wisdom is the principal thing ; therefore get wisdom ; and with 
all thy getting, get understanding. 

Take fast hold of instruction ; let her not go ; keep her ; for 
she is thy life. 

The memory of the just is blessed ; but the name of the wicked 
shall rot. 

5. Enter not into the path of the wicked, and go not in the 
way of evil men. 

Avoid it, pass not by it, turn from it, and pass away : 

For they sleep not, except they have done mischief; and their 

sleep is taken away, unless they cause some to fall : 

For they eat the bread of wickedness, and drink the wine of 

violence. 



COBB'S SPEAKEK. 103 

But the path of the just is as the shining light, that shineth 
more and more unto the perfect day. 

The way of the wicked is as darkness ; they know not at what 
they stumble. 

6. He becometh poor that dealeth with a slack hand ; but the 
hand of the diligent maketh rich. 

He that walketh uprightly walketh surely ; but he that per- 
verteth his ways shall be known. 

The tongue of the just is as choice silver : the heart of the 
wicked is little worth. 

The blessing of the Lord, it maketh rich, and he addeth no sor- 
row with it. 

1. It is as sport to a fool to do mischief. 

The fear of the wicked, it shall come upon him ; but the desire 
of the righteous shall be granted. 

When pride cometh, then cometh shame ; but with the lowly 
is wisdom. 

When a wicked man dieth, his expectation shall perish ; and 
the hope of unjust men perisheth. 

A tale-bearer revealeth secrets ; but he that is of a faithful spirit 
concealeth the matter. 

8. The merciful man doeth good to his own soul ; but he that 
is cruel troubleth his own flesh. 

Where no counsel is, the people fall ; but in the multitude of 
counsellors there is safety. 

As a jewel of gold in a swine's snout, so is a fair woman which 
is without discretion. 

The liberal soul shall be made fat ; and he that watereth shall 
be watered also himself. 

9. A wise son heareth his father's instructions ; but a scorner 
beareth not rebuke. 

Whoso loveth instruction loveth knowledge ; but he that hateth 
reproof is brutish. 

A virtuous woman is a crown to her husband ; but she that 
maketh ashamed is as rottenness in his bones. 



104 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

The wicked are overthrown, and are not ; but the house of the 
righteous shall stand. 

He that tilleth his land shall be satisfied with bread; but he 
that followeth vain persons is void of understanding. 

10. A fool's wrath is presently known ; but a prudent man cov- 
ereth shame. 

Lying lips are an abomination to the Lord ; but they that deal 
truly are his delight. 

The hand of the diligent shall bear rule; but the slothful shall 
be under tribute. 

The righteous is more excellent than his neighbor ; but the way 
of the wicked seduceth them. 

11. Wealth gotten by vanity shall be diminished; but he that 
gathereth by labor shall increase. 

Hope deferred maketh the heart sick; but when the desire com- 
eth, it is a tree of life. 

Poverty and shame shall be to him that refuseth instruction; 
but lie that regardetb reproof shall be honored. 

A good man Icaveth an inheritance to his children's children; 
and the wealth of the sinner is (aid up for the just 

12. He that spareth his rod hateth his son ; but he that loveth 
him chasteneth him betimes. 

There is a way which seemeth right unto a man, but the end 
thereof are the ways of death.' 

A wise man feareth, and departeth from evil ; but the fool 
rageth, and is confident. 

He that is soon angry dealeth foolishly ; and a man of wicked 
devices is hated. 

The fear of the Lord is a fountain of life. 

13. He that despiseth his neighbor sinneth; but he that hath 
mercy on the poor, happy is he. 

The wicked is driven away in his wickedness ; but the righteous 
hath hope in his death. 

Righteousness exalteth a nation ; but sin is a reproach to any 
people. 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 105 

The crown of the wise is their riches ; but the foolishness of 
fools is folly. 

The backslider in heart shall be filled in his own ways. 



LESSON XXV. 

EARLY GENIUS. WILLIAM LEGGETT. 

1. It has often been remarked of those who give very early 
manifestations of genius, that they fall into early decay ; and, like 
the first flowers of spring, that they bloom but a little while, before 
they are withered by the frosts of disappointment, or beaten to 
the earth by the storms of misfortune. 

2. Shakspeare, the confidant of nature, has evinced his knowl- 
edge of this fact, in that line of Richard, where the tyrant is made 
to mutter, " So wise, so young, they say do ne'er live long ;" and 
an accurate observer, much older than he, Sophocles, a Greek 
writer, has remarked that mischances always attend on early 
genius. 

3. The mind, indeed, in this respect may be compared to the 
earth : late springs produce from both the most abundant harvests ; 
and in both, the seeds which germinate into premature fecundity, 
being exposed to winds and frosts while the principle of life is weak 
within them, but seldom arrive at a strong and healthful state of 
existence. 

4. Yet it may reasonably be doubted, notwithstanding the 
number of instances of untimely death which has befallen those 
who became early celebrated for their genius, whether the preco- 
cious ripening of the faculties of the mind necessarily presage 
brevity of life ; or whether, in the cases that could be mentioned, 
the fatality has not been the result of an ardor of application to 
scholastic pursuits, too severe and unremitted for the body to 
sustain. 

5. The beautiful lines addressed by Lord Byron to the memory 
of Kirke White, might be applied, it is to be feared, with equal 



106 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

justice to many a promising genius, who, with suicidal sedulous- 
ness, wastes his life in the silence of midnight research, and fails 
to attain the goal of his wishes, by setting out with a rapidity that 
can not be maintained. 

6. But the number of those who have sunk into untimely graves 
after exhibiting precocious evidences of intellectual vigor, bean 
no proportion to the many who continue to live undistinguished 
from the mass of their fellow-men ; of those who, in their outset, 
having shorn off a few mental bounding*, and curetting*, which 
denoted speed and agility, slacken, for the rest of their journey, into 
the ordinary pace of ordinary minds. 

V. It is too often the case that the applause which is bestowed 
on the efforts of juvenile intellect, diminishes that diligence by 
which alone applause can continue to be deserved; and that he 
who has performed more than was expected, will be induced to 
pause and banquet on the honor thus acquired, until he is passed 
on the road, by the steady perseverance of slower understandings. 

8. They whom facility of acquisition renders confident of their 
abilities, naturally fall into negligence, thinking that they can at 
any time atone, by the rapidity of their progress, for the length 
and frequency of their delays. But it is easier to relax from in- 
dustry to idleness, than to return from sloth to activity ; and when 
attention has been lulled by flattery, or dissipated by pleasure, it 
is difficult to renew its energies, collect again the stores of thought 
which have been scattered, and awaken curiosity from its trance, 
to re-engage in literary pursuits. 

9. Permanent applause is the reward of unconditional great- 
ness ; but that praise which is bestowed on early genius has refer- 
ence to the circumstances by which it is surrounded, and will 
not be continued, unless its efforts increase with ijs years. Con- 
tinual assiduity is necessary to continual excellence ; fame, like 
fortune, must be vigorously pursued ; but he who pauses in his 
career to snatch her wreath, will find it turn, like fairy money, to 
dust and rubbish in his grasp. 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 107 

LESSON XXVI. 

ASPIRATIONS OF YOUTH. MONTGOMERY. 

1. Higher, higher will we climb 

Up the mount of glory, 
That our names may live through time 

In our country's story ; 
Happy, when her welfare calls, 
He who conquers, he who falls. 

2. Deeper, deeper let us toil 

In the mines of knowledge ; 
Nature's wealth and Learning's spoil 

Win from school and college ; 
Delve we there for richer gems 
Than the stars of diadems. 

3. Onward, onward may we press 

Through the path of duty ; 
Virtue is true happiness, 

Excellence true beauty ; 
Minds are of celestial birth, 
Make we then a heaven of earth. 

4. Closer, closer let us knit 

Hearts and hands together, 
Where our fireside comforts sit 

In the wildest weather ; 
Oh, they wander wide who roam 
For the joys of life from home ! 



108 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

LESSON XXVII. 

MATERNAL WISDOM. H. N. HUDSON. 

1. If there be any power on earth that i- truly divine, it is in the 
maternal wisdom and prudence which give to tin* world a truly 
noble and exalted character. And if spiritual heroes be our great- 
est bles-inu-, assuredly they are our best and truest benefactors 
who provide them for us. He who controls the physical resources 
of a nation, has indeed the power to make us prouder and wealth- 
ier, to awe and astonish us by tin- visible and tangible magnitude 
of his operations ; hut he has not the power to make Ufl Wl» r or 
better, or to build up within us the force and magnanimity of bouI 
which form the true palladium of a nation's prosperity. 

2. Napoleon, with the men and means of France at his n . ]. 
could make all Europe but the chess-board of his ambition, and 
hang her nations as bo many jewels in his imperial crown; hut it 
belonged to an humble lady of Virginia to perform a 
mankind, which Napoleon was as far below performing as he f»-lt 
above attempting. Doul all know, and < rod forbid we 
should ever forget, what Washington achieved for us; but scarce 
any of us know or care to know the meek and unobtrusive being 
who achieved for us Washington himself. 

3. The truth is, the finer and choicer productions of human agen- 
cy, do not, and can not, receive their growth in the wider but grosser 
sphere of physical activity. To form and fashion a noble char- 
acter, and to educate it into the freedom of truth and virtue, is a 
higher and deeper exercise of power, than to develop the physical 
resources and secure the outward freedom of a nation. It is not the 
power which acts upon us, but the power which acts within us, 
that truly moves the world. " Peace hath her victories no less re- 
nowned than war." The greatest of human achievements are the 
silent and invisible work of fireside influence ; for genuine wisdom 
and worth, the highest and mightiest results of human effort, must 
perforce grow up unheard and unseen in the residence of infant 
spirits, 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 109 

4. The abode of genuine power, therefore, is in the nursery of 
human souls ; and the light of maternal instruction is the true light 
which light eth almost every great and good man that cometh into 
the world. Nature is undoubtedly the chief agent in the produc- 
tion of great and good men ; the germes and first principles of ex- 
alted character must of course come from the divine source of all 
beauty and excellence : but next to nature stands the being whose 
task and duty it is to breathe into these germes the breath of life, 
and to unfold the heavenly riches slumberino- in their bosoms. As- 
suredly, if genuine creative might be lodged any where on earth, it 
is in the garden of spiritual vegetation ; and the most sacred office 
and divinest prerogative of humanity belong to those whom nature 
herself elects to the motherhood of human souls. 

5. Such, then, is the sphere, and such the task, which nature 
hath assigned to woman ; a sphere which none but she can fill, a 
task which none but she can perform : and if many have had a 
pride that disdained them, none, assuredly, have had a wisdom 
above them. And perhaps the world does not afford a more dis- 
oTistino; and distressing sio-ht than to see her whom Heaven has 
gifted and consecrated for this divine art, degrading herself into a 
mere material hodman, and only carrying mortar to build and 
plaster up the frail and fleeting tenements of the souls intrusted to 
her charge. Most truly, indeed, may we say, in reference to these 
things, that u wisdom is oft-times nearer when we stoop than when 
we soar ;" for it grows most plenteously and acts most efficiently 
where fireside affection sheds over the intellect the dews of a mild 
but genial inspiration. It were doubtless well for us all, of what- 
ever sex, to know and feel that we are never, while on earth, so 
near heaven, as when we are at home. 

6. The noblest efforts and highest achievements of the mind 
must transpire on the consecrated spot which collects and concen- 
trates the rays of the heart. It is while laboring here, therefore, 
that the greatest blessings come to us,- and the greatest blessings 
go from us. The gods, it has been beautifully said, approve the 
depths and not the tumults of the soul. It is under the soft, sweet 
guardianship of a peace which public breath can neither give nor 



110 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

take away, that wisdom most delights to tix her abode; and it is 
upon those whose minds as well as hearts are " true to the kindred 
points of heaven and home, v that there comes 

■ the gleam, 
The light that never was on Bea or land, 
The consecration and the heavenly dream." 



LESSON XXVIII. 

TRAITS OF INDIAN CHARACTER. IRVING. 

1. There is something in the character and habits of the North 
American savage, taken in connexion with the scenery over which 
he is accustomed to range, its vast lakes, boundle^ majes- 
tic rivers, and trackless plains, that is, to my mind, wonderfully 
striking and sublime. He is formed for the wilderness, as the Arab 
is for the desert. His nature is stern, simple, and enduring ; fitted 
to grapple with difficulties, and to support privations. 

2. There seems but little soil in his heart for the growth of the 
kindly virtues ; and yet, if we would but take the trouble to pene- 
trate through that proud stoicism and habitual taciturnity which 
lock up his character from casual observation, we should find him 
linked to his fellow-man of civilized life by more of those sym- 
pathies and affections than are usually ascribed to him. 

3. It was the lot of the unfortunate aborigines of America, in 
the early periods of colonization, to be doubly wronged by the 
white men. They have been dispossessed of their hereditary pos- 
sessions by mercenary and frequently wanton warfare ; and their 
characters have been traduced by bigoted and interested writers. 

4. The colonist has often treated them like beasts of the forest ; 
and the author has endeavored to justify him in his outrages. 
The former found it easier to exterminate than to civilize ; the 
latter, to vilify than to discriminate. The appellations of savage 
and pagan, were deemed sufficient to sanction the hostilities of 
both ; and thus the poor wanderers of the forest were persecuted 



COBB'S SPEAKER. Ill 

and detained, not because they were guilty, but because they were 
ignorant. 

5. The rights of the savage have seldom been properly appre- 
ciated or respected by the white man. In peace, he has too often 
been the dupe of artful traffic ; in war he has been regarded as a 
ferocious animal, whose life or death was a question of mere pre- 
caution or convenience. Man is cruelly wasteful of life when his 
own safety is endangered, and he is sheltered by impunity ; and 
little mercy is to be expected from him when he feels the sting of 
the reptile, and is conscious of the power to destroy. 

6. The same prejudices which were indulged thus early, exist 
in common circulation, at the present day. Certain learned socie- 
ties, it is true, have endeavored, with laudable diligence, to investi- 
gate and record the real characters and manners of the Indian 
tribes. The American government, too, has wisely and humanely 
exerted itself to inculcate a friendly and forbearing spirit towards 
them, and to protect them from fraud and injustice. 

7. The current opinion of the Indian character, however, is too 
apt to be formed from the miserable hordes which infest the frontiers, 
and hang on the skirts of the settlements. These are too com- 
monly composed of degenerate beings, corrupted and enfeebled by 
the vices of society, without being benefited by its civilization. 
That proud independence which formed the main pillar of savage 
virtue, has been shaken down, and the whole moral fabric lies in 
ruins. Their spirits are humiliated and debased by a sense of in- 
feriority, and their native courage cowed and daunted by the 
superior knowledge and power of their enlightened neighbors. 

S. Society has advanced upon them like one of those withering 
airs that will sometimes breathe desolation over a whole region of 
fertility. It has enervated their strength, multiplied their diseases, 
and superinduced upon then* original barbarity the low vices of 
artificial life. It has given them a thousand superfluous wants, 
while it has diminished their means of mere existence. It has 
driven before it the animals of the chase, which fly from the sound 
of the axe, and the smoke of the settlement, and seek refuge in the 
depths of remoter forests and yet untrodden wilds. 



112 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

9. Thus do we too often find the Indians on our frontiers to be 
the mere wrecks and remnants of once powerful tribes, who have 
lingered in the vicinity of the settlements, and sunk into precari- 
ous and vagabond existence Poverty, refining and hopeless 
poverty, a canker of the mind, unknown in savage We, corrodes 
their spirits, and blights every free and noble quality of their 
natures. They become drunken, indolent, feeble, thievish, and 
pusillanimous. 

10. They loiter, like vagrants, about the settlements, among 
spacious dwellings replete with elaborate comforts, which only 
render them sensible of the comparative wretchedness of their own 
condition. Luxury spreads its ample board before their eyes; but 
they are excluded from the banquet. Plenty revels over the fields ; 
but they are starring in the midst of its abundance: the whole 
wilderness has blossomed into a garden; but they t' el aa reptiles 
that infest it. 

11 How different was their state, while yet the undisputed 
Lids of the soil ! Their wants were few, and the means of grati- 
fication within their reach. They saw every one around them 
sharing the same lot, enduring the same hardships, feeding on the 
same aliments, arrayed in the same rude garments 

12. No roof then rose but it was open to the homeless stranger; 
no smoke curled among the trees, but he was welcomed to sit 
down by its fire, and join the hunter in his repast. " For," says 
an old historian of New England, " their life is so void of care, and 
they are so loving also, that they make use of those they enjoy as 
common goods, and are therein so compassionate, that rather than 
one should starve through want, they would starve all : thus do 
they pass their time merrily, not regarding our pomp, but are bet- 
ter content with their own, which some men esteem so meanly of/' 

13. Such were the Indians, while in the pride and energy of 
their primitive natures. They resemble those wild plants which 
thrive best in the shades of the forests, but shrink from the hand 
of cultivation, and perish beneath the influence of the sun. 

14. In discussing the savage character, writers have been too 
prone to indulge in vulgar prejudice and passionate exaggeration, 



COBB'S SPEAKEK. 113 

instead of the candid temper of true philosophy. They have not 
sufficiently considered the peculiar circumstances in which the 
Indians have been placed, and the peculiar principles under which 
they have been educated. No being acts more rigidly from rule 
than the Indian. His whole conduct is regulated according to 
some general maxims early implanted in his mind. The moral 
laws that govern him, are, to be sure, but few ; but then, he con- 
forms to them all ; the white man abounds in laws of religion, 
morals, and manners ; but how many does he violate ! 

15. A frequent ground of accusation against the Indians, is 
their disregard of treaties, and the treachery and wantonness with 
which, in time of apparent peace, they will suddenly fly to hostili- 
ties. The intercourse of the white men with the Indians, however, 
is too apt to be cold, distrustful, oppressive, and insulting. They 
seldom treat them with that confidence and frankness which are 
indispensable to real friendship ; nor is sufficient caution observed 
not to offend against those feelings of pride or superstition, which 
often prompt the Indian to hostility quicker than mere considera- 
tions of interest. 

16. The solitary savage feels silently, but acutely. His sensi- 
bilities are not diffused over so wide a surface as those of the 
white man ; but they run in steadier and deeper channels. His 
pride, his affections, his superstitions, are all directed towards fewer 
objects; but the wounds inflicted on them, are proportionably 
severe, and furnish motives of hostility which we can not suffi- 
ciently appreciate. 

1*7. Where a community is also limited in number, and forms 
one great patriarchal family, as in an Indian tribe, the injury of an 
individual, is the injury of the whole ; and the sentiment of ven- 
geance is almost instantaneously diffused. One council-fibre is 
sufficient for the discussion and arrangement of a plan of hostili- 
ties. Here, here all the fighting men and sages assemble. Elo- 
quence and superstition combine to influence the minds of the 
warriors. The orator awakens their martial ardor, and they are 
wrought up to a kind of religious desperation by the visions of 
the prophet and the dreamer. 



114 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

LESSON XXIX. 

HOME FOR THE FRIENDLESS. N. P. Willis. 

[Composed for and sung at the dedication of the " Home for the Friend- 
less," 80th Street, New York, Dec. 1849.] 

1. When God, to shield from cold and storm, 
Grave trees to build and fire to warm, 

He did not mark for each his part, 
But gave to each a human heart. 

2. Each heart is told the poor to aid; 
Not told as thunder makes afraid ; 
But, by a Muall voice, whisp'ring there: 
Find thou, for God, the sufferer s share! 

8. Oh, prompting faint, t<> careless tiew, 
For work that angels well might dol 

But wisely, thus, is taught below, 
Quick pity for another's wo. 

4. The world is stored ; enough for all 

Is scattered wide, 'tween hut and hall; 
And those who feast, or friendless roam, 
Alike from God receive a home. 

5. Each houseless one demands of thee : 
Can aught thou hast the poor man's be ? 
And Pity breathes response divine : 
Take what I have from God, that's thine. 

6. For child ; for woman's fragile form. 
More harsh the cold, more wild the storm ; 
But most they bless a shelt'ring door, 
Whom dark temptations urge no more ! 

7. A Home for these, oh God, to-day, 
For blessing at thy feet we lay ! 
And, may its shelter, humbly given, 
Be but a far-off door to Heaven. 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 115 

LESSON XXX. 

THE SALT-MINES OF EUROPE. HARPER'S NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. 

1. The salt-mines of Cheshire, and the brine-pits of Worcester- 
shire, according to the best authority, not only supply salt sufficient 
for the consumption of nearly the whole of England, but also up- 
wards of half a million of tuns for exportation. Rock-salt is by 
no means confined to England ; it is found in many countries, 
especially where strata of more recent date than those of the coal 
measures abound. Though in some instances the mineral is pure 
and sparkling in its native state, it is generally dull and dirty, 
owing to the matter with which it is associated. 

2. The ordinary shade is a dull red, from being in contact with 
marls, of that color. But notwithstanding, it possesses many in- 
teresting features. When the extensive subterranean halls have 
been lighted up with innumerable candles, the appearance is most 
interesting, and the visiter, enchanted with the scene, feels himself 
richly repaid for the trouble he may have incurred in visiting the 
excavations. 

3. The Cheshire mines are from 50 to 150 yards below the 
surface. The number of salt-beds is five ; the thinnest of them 
being only about six inches, while the thickest is nearly forty feet. 
Besides these vast masses, there is a large quantity of salt mixed 
up with the marl-beds that intervene. The method of working 
the rock-salt is like that adopted for the excavation of coal ; but 
it is much more safe and pleasant to visit these than the other, 
owing to the roof of the excavations being much more secure, and 
the absence of all noxious gases, with the exception of carbonic 
acid gas. 

4. In the thinner coal-seams, the roof, or rock lying above the 
coal, is supported by wooden pillars as the mineral is withdrawn ; 
while, in the thicker seams, pillars of coal are left at intervals to 
support the superincumbent mass. The latter is the plan adopted 
in the salt-mines. Large pillars of various dimensions are left to 
support the roof at irregular intervals ; but these bear a small pro- 



116 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

portion to the mass of mineral excavated. The efieot is most 
picturesque; in the deep gloom of the excavation, the pillars pre- 
test tangible objects on which the eye can rest, while the Inter- 
vening spaces stretch away into night. 

5. The mineral is loosened from the rock by blasting, and the 
effect of the explosions, heard from time t > time re-echoing through 
the wide spaces, and from tin- distant walls of rock, gives a pecu- 
liar grandeur and unpressivenesf t<> the scene. Hie great charm, 
indeed, on the occasion of a \i-it to these mines, even when they 
are illuminated by thousands of lights, is chiefly owing to the 
gloomy and cavernous appearance, the dim endless perspective, 
broken by the numerous pillars, and the lights half disclosing and 
half concealing the deep recesses which are formed and terminated 
by these monstrous and --lid projections, 

G. The pillars, owing to the great height of the roof, are very 
massive. For twenty feel of rock they are about fifteen feet thick. 
Th.- descent to the mines i- by a shaft; a perpendicular opening 
of six, eight, or ten feel Bquare; this opening is used for th" gen- 
eral' purposes of ventilation, drainage, lifting the mineral, a- weD 
as the miners. It varies in dimensions according t<> the extent of 
tie- excavations. In some of the English mines the part of the 
1-r 1 of rock-salt excavated amounts to several acres; but in some 
parts of Europe the workings are even more extensive 

7. The Wilton mine, one of the largest in England, is worked 
330 feet below the surface, and from it, and one or two adjacent 
mines, upwards of GO, 000 tuns of salt are annually obtained, two- 
thirds of which are immediately exported, and the rest is dissolved 
in water, and afterward reduced to a crystalline state by evapo- 
rating the solution. It is not yet two hundred years since the 
Cheshire mines were discovered. 

8. In the year 1670, before men were guided by science in their 
investigations, an attempt was made to find coal in the district. 
The sinking was unsuccessful relative to the one mineral, but the 
disappointment and loss were amply met by the discovery of the 
other. From that time till the present, the rock-salt has been dug, 
and, as we have seen, most extensively used in England, while the 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 117 

surplus supply has become an article of exportation. Previous to 
this discovery the consumption was chiefly supplied from the brine- 
pits of Worcestershire. 

9. There is a remarkable deposite of salt in the valley of Car- 
dona, in the Pyrenees. Two thick masses of rock-salt, says Ansted, 
apparently united at their bases, make their appearance on one of 
the slopes of the hill of Cardona. One of the beds, or rather mass- 
es, has been worked, and measures about 130 yards by 250 ; but 
its depth has not been determined. It consists of salt in a lami- 
nated condition, and with confused crystallization. 

10. That part which is exposed, is composed of eight beds, near- 
ly horizontal, having a total thickness of fifteen feet ; but the beds 
are separated from one another by red and variegated marls and 
gypsum. The second mass, not worked, appears to be unstratined, 
but in other respects resembles the former ; and this portion, where 
it has been exposed to the action of the weather, is steeply scarped, 
and bristles with needle-like points, so that its appearance has been 
compared to that of a glacier. 

11. There is also an extensive salt-mine at Wieliczka, in Poland, 
and the manner of working it was accurately described some years 
since. The manner of descending into the mine was by means of 
a large cord wound around a wheel and worked by a horse. The 
visiter, seated on a small piece of wood placed in the loop of the 
cord, and grasping the cord with both hands, was let down two 
hundred feet, the depth of the first galleries, through a shaft about 
eight feet square, sunk through beds of sand, alternating with lime- 
stone, gypsum, variegated marls, and calcareous schists. 

12. Below the stage, the descent was by wooden staircases, 
nine or ten feet wide. In the first gallery was a chapel, measuring 
thirty feet in length by twenty-four in breadth, and eighteen in 
height ; every part of it, the floor, the roof, the columns which 
sustained the roof, the altar, the crucifix, and several statues, were 
all cut out of the solid salt ; the chapel was for the use of the 
miners. It had always been said that the salt in this mine had the 
qualities which produced magic appearances to an uncommon cle- 



118 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

gree ; but it is now ascertained that its scenery b not mora 
enchanting than that of the mines in Cheshire. 

13. Gunpowder is now used in the Polish as in the English 
mines ; but the manner of obtaining the salt, at the time of the 
visit we are recording, was peculiar, and too ingenious t<> !»•• passed 
over, even though it be now superseded by tin- more modem and 
more successful mode of blasting. 

14. "In the first place, the over-man, or head niin<-r, marked 
the length, breadth, and thickness of a block lie wished to be de- 
tached, the size of which was generally the sam<-, namely, about 
eight feet long, four feet wide, and two feet thick. A certain 
number of blocks being marked, the workman began by boring a 
succession of holes on one side from top to bottom of the block, 
the holes being three inches deep, and six inches apart. 

15. An horizontal groove was then cut, half an inch deep, both 
above and below; and, having put into each of the holes an iron 
wedge, all the wedges were struck with moderate blows, to drive them 
into the mass ; the blows were continued until two cracks appeared, 
one in the direction of the line of the holes, and the other along 
the upper horizontal line. 

16. The block was now loosened and ready to fall, and the 
workman introduced into the crack produced by the driving of 
the wedges a wooden ruler, two or three inches broad, and, moving 
it backward and forward on the crack, a tearing sound was soon 
heard, which announced the completion of the work. 

17. If proper care had been taken, the block fell unbroken, and 
Avas then divided into three or four parts, which were shaped into 
cylinders for the greater convenience of transport. Each workman 
was able to work out four such blocks every day, and the whole 
number of persons employed in the mine, varied from twelve 
hundred to about two thousand." The mine was worked in galler- 
ies ; and, at the time of this visit, these galleries extended to at 
least eight English miles. Since then the excavations have become 
much more extensive. 

18. The method of preparing rock-salt is very simple, and differs 
little from that employed in manufacturing salt from springs. 



COBB'S speaker. 119 

The first step in the process is, to obtain a proper strength of brine, 
by saturating fresh water with the salt brought from the mine. 
The brine obtained in a clear state is put into evaporating pans, 
and brought as quickly as possible to a boiling heat, when a skin 
is formed on the surface, consisting chiefly of impurities. 

19. This skin is taken off, so also are the first crystals that are 
formed, and are thrown aside as useless, or used for agricultural 
purposes. The heat is kept at the boiling point for eight hours, 
during which period evaporation is going on ; the liquid becoming 
gradually reduced, and the salt meanwhile is being deposited. 
When this part of the process is finished, the salt is raked out, put 
into moulds, and placed in a drying stove, where it is dried per- 
fectly, and made ready for the market. 



LESSON XXXI. 

SPEAK BOLDLY. BY WM. OLAND BOURNE. 

1. Speak boldly, Freeman ! while to-day 

The strife is rising fierce and high, 
Gird on the armor while ye may 

In holy deeds to win or die ; 
The Age is Truth's wide battle-field, 

The Day is struggling with the Night, 
For Freedom hath again revealed 

A Marathon of holy right. 

2. Speak boldly, Hero! while the foe 

Treads onward with his iron heel ; 
Strike steady with a giant blow, 

And flash aloft the polished steel ; 
Be true, Hero ! to thy trust ! 

Man and thy God both look to thee ! 
Be true, or sink away to dust ; 

Be true, or hence to darkness flee. 



«» 



120 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

3. Speak boldly, Prophet! Let the fire 

Of Heaven come down on altars cursed, 
Where Baa] priests and seers conspire 

To pay their bloody homage first; 
Be true, Prophel I Let thy tongue 

SjM.-ik fearless, for the words are thine; 
Words that by morning stars were sung, 

And angels hymned in strains divine. 

4. Speak boldly, Poet! Let thy pen 

Be nerved with fare that may not die; 
Speak f<>r the rights of bleeding men 

Who look to Heaven with tearful eye. 
lie true, Poet! Let thy name 

Be honored where the weak have trod, 
And in the summit of thy fame, 

Be true to Man ! Be true to God ! 

5. Speak boldly, Brothers ! Wake, and come ! 

The Anakini are pn-sing on! 
In Freedom's strife he never dumb! 

Gird flashing blade- till all is won! 
Be true, O Brothers ! Truth is strong! 

Tin- foe shall sink beneath the sod ; 
While love and bliss shall thrill the song 

That Truth to Man is Truth to God. 



LESSON XXXII. 

MOUNT ETNA. CLARKE'S WONDERS OF THE WORLD. 

1. This single mountain contains an epitome of the different 
climates throughout the w T orld, presenting at once all the seasons of 
the year, and all the varieties of produce. It is divided into three 
distinct zones or regions, which are known by the names of the 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 121 

cultivated region, the woody or temperate region, and the frigid 
or desert region. The former of these extends through twelve 
miles of the ascent towards the summit, and is almost incredibly 
abundant in pastures and fruit-trees of every description. 

2. It is covered with towns, villages, and monasteries ; and the 
number of inhabitants distributed over its surface is estimated at 
120,000. In ascending to the woody or temperate region, the 
scene changes ; it is a new climate, a new creation. Below, the 
heat is suffocating ; but here the air is mild and fresh. The turf 
is covered with aromatic plants ; and gulfs, which formerly ejected 
torrents of fire, are changed into woody valleys. The last, or des- 
ert region, commences more than a mile above the level of the 
sea. The lower part is covered with snow in winter only ; but on 
the upper half of this steril district the snow constantly lies : — 

3. " Sometimes the pencil, in cool airy halls, 

Bade the gay bloom of vernal landscapes rise, 
Or Autumn's varied shades imbrown the walls : 
Now the black tempest strikes the astonished eyes, 
Now down the steep the flashing torrent flies ; 
The trembling sun now plays o'er ocean blue, 
And now rude mountains frown amid the skies ; 
Whatever Lorraine light-touched with softening hue, 
Or savage Rosa dashed, or learned Poussin drew." 

THOMSON. 

4. On the vastness and beauty of the prospect from the summit 
of Etna, all authors agree. M. Houel was stationed there at sun- 
rise, when the horizon was clear, and without a single cloud. The 
coast of Calabria was, he says, undistinguishable from the adjoining 
sea; but in a short time a fiery radiance began to appear from 
behind those Italian hills which bounded the eastern part of the 
prospect. The fleecy clouds, which generally appear early in the 
morning, were tinged with purple : the atmosphere became strong- 
ly illuminated, and, reflecting the rays of the sun, seemed to be 
filled with a bright refulgence of flame. 

5. Although the heavens were thus enlightened, the -sea still 

6 



122 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

retained its dark azure, and the fields and forests did not yet re- 
flect the rays of the sun. The gradual rising of this luminarv, 
however, soon diffused light over the hills which lit- below the peak 
of Etna. This last stood Like an island in the midst of the ocean, 
with luminous points multiplying every moment around, and 
spreading over a wider extent with the greatest rapidity. 

6. It was. said he, as if the world had been observed suddenly 
to spring from the night of non-existence. The most sublime ob- 
ject, however, which the summit of Etna presents, is the unmCOM 
mass of its own colossal body. h> upper region exhibits rough 
and craggy cliff-, rising perpendicularly, fearful to the view, and 
surrounded by an assemblage of fugitive clouds, to increase the wild 
variety of the scene. 

7. Amidst the multitude of woods in the middle or temperate 
region are numerous mountains, which, in any other situation, 
would appear of a gigantic size, but which, compared to Etna, are 
mere, molehills. Lastly, the eye contemplates with admiration 
the lower region, the most extensive of the three, adorned with ele- 
gant villas and castles, verdant hills and flowery fields, and ter- 
minated by the extensive coast, where, to the south, stands the 
beautiful city of Catania, to which the waves of the neighboring 
sea serve as a mirror. 



LESSON XXXIII. 

THE QUANTITY OF MATTER IN THE UNIVERSE. DICK. 

1. The earth is a globe about 8000 miles in diameter, and 
25,000 in circumference ; and, consequently, its surface contains 
nearly two hundred millions of square miles ; a magnitude too 
great for the mind to take in at one conception. In order to form 
a tolerable conception of the whole, we must endeavor to take a 
leisurely survey of its different parts. 

2. Were we to take our station on the top of a mountain of a 
moderate size, we should perceive an extent of view stretching 40 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 123 

miles in every direction, forming a circle 80 miles in diameter, and 
250 in circumference, and comprehending an area of 5000 square 
miles. In such a situation, the scene around us, consisting of hills 
and plains, towns and villages, rivers and lakes, would form one of 
the largest objects which the eye, or even the imagination, can 
steadily grasp at one time. 

3. But such an object, grand and extensive as it is, forms no 
more than the forty-thousandth part of the terraqueous globe ; so 
that, before we can acquire an adequate conception of the magni- 
tude of the world, we must conceive 40,000 landscapes of a similar 
extent to pass in review before us; and, were a scene of equal 
magnitude to pass before us every hour, and were twelve hours 
each day allotted for the observation, it would require 9 years and 
48 days before the whole surface of the globe could be contem- 
plated, even in this general and rapid manner. 

4. These remarks apply to the earth as a mere superficies. 
But the earth is a solid globe ; and its solid contents are no less 
than 259,332,805,350 cubical miles ; a mass of material sub- 
stance, in proportion to which, all the lofty mountains which rise 
above its surface are less than a few grains of sand, when com- 
pared with the largest artificial globe. Were the earth a hollow 
sphere, surrounded merely with an external shell, ten miles thick, 
its internal cavity would be sufficient to contain a quantity of 
materials one hundred and thirty-three times greater than the 
whole mass of continents, islands, and oceans on its surface, and 
the foundations on which they are supported. 

5. We have the strongest reasons, however, to conclude, that 
the earth, though not a solid mass from the surface to the centre, 
has, at least, a solid exterior crust of two or three hundred miles 
in thickness. What an enormous mass of materials, then, is com- 
prehended within the limits of that globe on which we tread! 
How great must be the power of that Being who commanded it 
to spring from nothing into existence, who " measures the ocean 
in the hollow of his hand, who weigheth the mountains in scales, 
and hangeth the earth upon nothing !" 

6. When we contemplate, by the light of science, those mag- 



124 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

nificent globes which float in the concave of the sky, the earth, 
with all its sublime scenery, stupendous a- it is, dwindles into an 
inconsiderable ball. It' we pass from our globe t<> some of the 
other bodies of the planetary system, we shall find, that one of these 
stupendous orbs is more than 900 times tin- size of our world, and 
encircled with a ring which would nearly reach from the earth to 
the moon ; and that another is of such a >iz<-, that it would require 
1500 globes of the bulk <»t* the earth to form one equal to it in 
dimensions. 

7. The whole of the bodies which compose the solar system, 
(without taking tin- bud and the comets into account,) contain a 
mass of matter, about 2500 times greater than that of the earth. 
The sun himself is 520 times larger than all the planetary globes 
taken together; and one million three hundred thousand times 
larger than the terraqueous globe. 

8. If we extend our views from the solar system to the starry 
heavens, we have to penetrate, in our imagination, a space which 
the swiftest ball that was ever projected, though in perpetual 
motion, would not traverse in ten hundred thousand year*. In 
those trackless regions of immensity we behold an assemblage 
of resplendent globes similar to the sun in size and in glory, 
and, doubtless, accompanied with a retinue of worlds, revolving, 
like our own, around their attractive influence. 

9. The immense distance at which the nearest stars are known 
to be placed, proves that they are bodies of a prodigious size, not 
inferior to our own sun, and that they shine, not by reflected rays, 
but by their ow r n native light. But bodies encircled by such re- 
fulgent splendor, would be of little use in the economy of Jehovah's 
empire, unless surrounding worlds were cheered by their benign 
influence. Every star is, therefore, concluded to be a sun, no less 
spacious than ours, surrounded by a host of planetary globes, 
which revolve around it as a centre, and derive from it light, and 
heat, and comfort. 

10. Nearly a thousand of these luminaries may be seen in a 
clear winter night by the naked eye ; so that a mass of matter 
equal to a thousand solar systems, or to thirteen hundred and 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 125 

twenty millions of globes of the size of the earth, maybe perceived, 
by every common observer, in the canopy of heaven. But all the 
celestial orbs, which are perceived by the unassisted sight, do not 
form the eighty-thousandth part of those which may be descried 
by the help of optical instruments. 

11. Dr. Herschell has informed us that, when exploring the 
most crowded parts of the milky-way, with his best glasses, he has 
had fields of view which contained no less than 588 stars, and 
these too continued for many minutes ; so that " in one quarter 
of an hour's time, there passed no less than one hundred and six- 
teen thousand stars through the field of view of his telescope !" 

12. It has been computed, that nearly one hundred millions 
of stars might be perceived by perfect instruments, were all the 
regions of the sky thoroughly explored. And yet all this vast 
assemblage of suns and worlds, when compared with what lies 
beyond the utmost boundaries of human vision, in the immeasura- 
ble spaces of creation, may be no more than the smallest particle 
of vapor to the immense ocean. 

13. Here, then, with reverence, let us pause, and wonder ! 
Over all this vast assemblage of material existence God presides. 
Amidst the diversified objects and intelligences it contains, he is 
eternally and essentially present. At his Almighty fiat it emerged 
from nothing into existence ; and, by his unerring wisdom all its 
complicated movements are perpetually directed. Surely that 
man is little to be envied who is not impressed by such contem- 
plations, with a venerable and overwhelming sense of Creative 
Power. 



LESSOR XXXIV. 



CHARACTER AND CONDITION OF THE WESTERN INDIANS. GEORGE 

CATLIN. 

1. Impressions of the most vivid kind, are rapidly and indeli- 
bly made by the fleeting incidents of savage life ; and, for the 
mind that can contemplate them with pleasure, they afford abun- 



126 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

dant materials for its entertainment The mind susceptible of such 
impressions, catches volumes of incidents which are easy to mite; 

it is but to unfold a web which the fascinations of this country and 
its allurements have spun over the soul: it is but to paint the 
splendid panorama of a world entirely different from any thin_ 
or painted before, with its thousands of miles, and tens of thousands 

of grassy hills and dales, where naught but silence reigns, and where 
the soul of a contemplative mould is seemingly lifted up to its 
Creator. 

2. What man ever ascended to the pinnacle of one of Missouri's 
green-carpeted hlutl's, a thousand mile.-, severed from his own fa- 
miliar land, and giddily gazed over the interminable and boundless 
ocean of grass-covered hills and valleys which lie beneath him, 
where the gloom of silence is complete ; where not even the voice 
of the sparrow or cricket is heard ; without feeling a sweet melan- 
choly come over him, which seemed to drown his sense of every 
thing beneath him ? 

3. In traversing the immense region of the classic West, the 
mind of a philanthropist is filled with feelings of admiration. But 
to reach this country, one is obliged to descend from the light and 
glow of civilized atmosphere, through the different grades of civil- 
ization, which gradually sink to the most deplorable condition 
along the extreme frontier ; thence through the most pitiable mis- 
ery and wretchedness of savage degradation, where the genius of 
natural liberty and independence has been blasted and destroyed 
by the contaminating vices and dissipations, introduced by the 
immoral part of civilized society. 

4. Through this dark and sunken vale of wretchedness, one 
hurries, as through a pestilence, until he gradually rises again into 
the proud and chivalrous pale of savage society, in its state of origi- 
nal nature, beyond the reach of civilized, contamination. Here he 
finds much, upon which to fix his enthusiasm, and much to admire. 
Even here the predominant passions of the savage breast, of fero- 
city and cruelty, are often found ; yet restrained and frequently 
subdued by the noblest traits of honor and magnanimity. 

5. Here exists a race of men who live and enjoy life and its 



COBB'S SPEAKER. . 127 

luxuries, and practise its virtues, very far beyond the usual estima- 
tion of the world, who are apt to judge the savage and his virtues, 
from the poor, degraded, and humble specimens which alone can 
be seen along our frontiers. From the first settlements of our At- 
lantic coast to the present day, the bane of this blasting frontier 
has regularly crowded upon them, from the northern to the south- 
ern extremities of our country ; and, like the fire in a prairie, which 
destroys everything where it passes, it has blasted and sunk them, 
all but their names, into oblivion, wherever it has travelled. 

6. It is to this tainted class alone that the epithet of " poor, 
naked, and drunken savage," can be, with propriety, applied ; for, 
all those numerous tribes which I have visited, and are yet uncor- 
rupted by the vices of civilized acquaintance, are well clad, in many 
instances cleanly, and in the full enjoyment of life and its luxuries. 
It is a sad and melancholy truth to contemplate, that all the numer- 
ous tribes who inhabited our vast Atlantic States, have not " fled 
to the West ;" that they are not to be found here ; that they have 
been blasted by the fire which has passed over them, have sunk 
into their graves, and every thing but their names travelled into 
oblivion. 

V. The distinctive character of all these Western Indians, as well 
as their traditions relative to their ancient locations, prove beyond 
a doubt, that they have been for a long time located on the soil 
which they now possess ; and, in most respects, distinct and unlike 
those nations who formerly inhabited the Atlantic coast, and who, 
according to the erroneous opinion of a great part of the world, 
have fled to- the West. 

8. It is for these inoffensive and unoffending people, yet unvis- 
ited by the vices of civilized society, that I would proclaim to the 
world, that it is time, for the honor of our country ; for the honor 
of every citizen of the republic ; and for the sake of humanity, that 
our government should raise her strong arm to save the remainder 
of them from the pestilence which is rapidly advancing upon them. 

9. My heart has sometimes almost bled with pity while among 
them, and witnessing their innocent amusements, as I have con- 
templated the inevitable bane that was rapidly advancing upon 



128 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

them; without that check from the protecting arm of government, 

which alone can shield them from destruction. What degree of 
happiness these sons of Nature may attain to in the world, in their 
own way; or in w li.it proportion they may relish the pleasftn 
life, compared to the sum of happiness belonging to civilizi 
ciety, has long been a subject of much doubt, and one which 1 can 
not undertake to decide. 

10. I have long locked with the eye of a critic, into the jovial 

faces of these sons of the forest, unrarrowed with cares; where the 
agonizing feeling of poverty had never stamped distress upon the 
brow. 1 have watched tie- bold, intrepid Btep, the proud, yet dig- 
nified deportment <>t' Nature's man, in fearless fro d -m, with a soul 
unalloyed by mercenary lusts, too great to yield to laws or power 
except from God. As these independent fellows are all joint-ten- 
ants of the -oil, they are all rich, and none of the steepill 

compara! their jusl claims to renown. 

11. Y\'ho, I would ask, can I »ut admiring, into a 

. where virl 

th no 
laws, hut the laws of tonor, which are the supreme law of the 
land : T) :i-r h | for awhile, with 

all its intellectual refinements, to such •■ tribi nal, and then write 
down the degradation of the "lav'. 
!• ut virtu 



LESS OX XXXV. 

EXCELSIOR, OR THE YOUTHFUL ASPIRANT. LONGFELLOW. 

1. The shades of night were falling fast, 
As through an Alpine village passed 
A youth who bore, 'mid snow and ice, 
A banner with this strange device, 
Excelsior ! 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 129 

2. His brow was sad ; his eyes beneath 
Flashed like a falchion from its sheath, 
And like a silver clarion rung 

The accents of that unknown tongue, 
Excelsior ! 

3. In happy homes, he saw the light 

Of household fires gleam warm and bright ; 
Above, the spectral glaciers shone, 
And from his lips escaped a groan, 
Excelsior ! 

4. " Try not the Pass !" the old man said, 
" Dark lowers the tempest overhead ! 
The roaring torrent's deep and wide !" 
And loud that clarion voice replied, 

% Excelsior ! 

5. " Beware the pine-tree's withered branch ! 
Beware the awful avalanche !" 

This was the peasant's last good night, 
A voice replied, far up the height, 
Excelsior ! 

6. At break of day, as heavenward 
The pious monk of St. Bernard 
Uttered the oft-repeated prayer, 

A voice cried through the startled air, 
Excelsior ! 

7. A traveller, by the faithful hound, 
Half-buried in the snow was found, 
Still grasping in his hand of ice 
That banner with the strange device, 

Excelsior ! 
6* 



130 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

8. There, in the twilight cold and gray, 
Lifeless, but beautiful, he lay ; 
And from the sky serene and far, 
A voice fell, like a falling star, 
Excelsior ! 



LESSON 2 XXVI. 

TBI DESERT OF SAHARA. UUCKE. 

1. This desert, which is in Africa, is equal in extent to one half 

of Europe: it is the largest in the work}. Here nature presents 
herself in character of frightful sterility. Gloomy, barren, and 
void uniformity, here produces sensations of the most distressing 
and disconsolate melancholy. 

2. A heat prevails, too, under which nature herself seems to 
sink ; the mind experiences no delight from the imagination ; the 
souls feels no inspiration of poetry. Curiosity is entombed, as it 
were; and the imagination pictures nothing to animate the dread- 
ful waste, but wild boars, panthers, lions, and serpents. In this 
great desert, so extensive and vast is the prospect, that Adams 
travelled with the Moors twenty-nine days without seeing a single 
plant ; not even a blade of grass ! 

3. In boundless seas, impenetrable forests, and in vast savannas, 
there resides grandeur, heightened by an awful repose. Here the 
mind pauses for materials wherewith to heighten the desolation 
and despair. This silence, this solitude ; more horrific are they to 
the imagination than the perspective of whole ages of action, of 
difficulty and labor. 

4. Napoleon, in crossing the desert to inspect the forts of 
Suez, and to reconnoitre the shores of the Red Sea, passed only one 
tree in all the journey; the whole of which was tracked with 
bones and bodies of men and animals. The night was cold, and 
there was no fuel. His attendants gathered the dry bones and 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 131 

bodies of the dead, that lay bleaching in the desert ; of these they 
made fires. 

5. Napoleon remarked that the desert always had a peculiar 
influence on his feelings. It seemed to him, he said, " the Image 
of Immensity ; it showed no boundaries, and had neither begin- 
ning nor end ; it was an ocean on terra firma." The sands of the 
desert were, probably, once the sands of the sea. 

6. While surveying nature under these aspects, where all is in- 
animation and mystery, in the midst of a profound and frightful 
silence, the mind bends beneath the weight of an oppression like 
that of nightmare. No quadruped, no bird, no insect, gives relief 
to a circular horizon of unvaried aspect. In the night, however, 
the heavens exhibit a moving picture of magnificence, not to be 
paralleled in any other part of the globe; the God of nature 
seeming to have directed all his powers to produce a scene, at 
once to command the admiration, and to overwhelm the faculties 
of the soul. 



LESSON XXXVII. 

CHANCELLOR LIVINGSTON. DR. J. W. FRANCIS. 

1. In that important negotiation with the government of France, 
which resulted in the acquisition of Louisiana, Chancellor Liv- 
ingston was the prominent and efficient agent. Its transfer by 
the Spanish government to France, in 1802, had excited the most 
lively feelings of the American republic. By this unexpected 
measure, they were made the neighbors to a power, which, under 
the giant energies of the First Consul, threatened, in case of rup- 
ture, the very existence of our republic. 

2. Immediately preceding the entrance into it of the French 
authorities, the Spanish powers prohibited the inhabitants of the 
western country the use of New Orleans as a place of deposite for 
their productions, contrary to the treaty with his Catholic majesty. 
A universal spirit of indignation animated the American people ; 



132 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

and there were not wanting those who recommended an immediate 
recourse to arms. The discussions on this question in the I 
gress of the United States elicited debates, in which De Witt 
Clinton and Gouverneur Morris, representatives of this Stale in the 
American Senate, sustained the different views of the rival p 
of this country. 

3. In pursuance of the sounder counsels of those who urged the 
propriety of negotiation and peace, the Executive of the United 
States deputed, as minister to the Court of Prance, the late Presi- 
dent Monroe ; but previous to his arrival, Mr. Li\ in an 
elaborate and interesting memoir, addressed to the French govern- 
ment, had prepared them for tin- cession of the greater part of 
Louisiana.* To further this great object, he had 
importuned the First Consul. 

4. The result of Ciianci.-. r.oit Livingston's efforts was prompt 
and successful. On the fifth of April, the Firsl Consul announced 
to his bureau of state, his determination to sell whatever of Amer- 
ican territory he had obtained from Spain. Seven days after- 
Ward, Mr. Monroe arrived in Paris, and gqye the consent of the 
American government to this negotiation. The menacing pos- 
ture of affairs between France and England facilitated the ob- 
jects of these arrangements, and resulted in the transfei of the en- 
tire country to the American republic, for a sum less than was 
adequate for the preparation of a single campaign. 

5. By this important treaty, contrary to the anticipations of the 
timid or interested, the confederacy of our states was placed on an 
invulnerable basis ; territory was added to our country, nearly 
equal in extent to that of the original states of our union ; and the 
blessings of free government secured to millions, who had other- 
wise groaned under the vassalage of foreign dominion. 

6. The vast deserts of Louisiana are daily becoming the cheerful 
residence of an intelligent and Christian population, with American 
blood flowing in their veins, and beating responsive to republican 
feelings ; and the field of New Orleans is now added to those of 

* Livingston's Memorial 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 133 

Bunker Hill, Stillwater, and Chippewa, as trophies of American 
valor and patriotism. 

7. After the signing of this eventful treaty, the three ministers 
arose, says one of them, the Count Marbois, when Mr. Livingston, 
expressing the general satisfaction, said, with prophetic sagacity, 
" We have lived long, but this is the noblest work of our whole 
lives. The treaty which we have just signed has not been obtain- 
ed by art, or dictated by force ; equally advantageous to the two 
contracting parties, it will change vast solitudes into flourishing 
districts. From this day, the United States take their place among 
the powers of the first rank ; the English lose all exclusive influence 
in the affairs of America. 

8. Thus one of the principal causes of European rivalries and 
animosities is about to cease. The United States will re-establish 
the maritime rights of all the world, which are now usurped by a 
single nation. These treaties will thus be a guarantee of peace 
and concord among commercial states. 

9. The instruments which we have just signed, will cause no 
teai*s to be shed ; they prepare ages of happiness for innumerable 
generations of human creatures. The Mississippi and Missouri 
will see them succeed one another, and multiply, truly worthy of 
the regard of Providence, in the bosom of equality, under just 
laws, freed from the errors of superstition and the scourges of bad 
government." 



LESSON XXXVIII. 

A PRAIRIE ON FIRE. GEORGE W. KENDALL. 

1. The 18th of August was an eventful day to us ; one which few 
of the party can ever forget. The night previous, we encamped 
without water for our cattle and horses ; and, the little we obtained 
for our own use was of the worst quality, and swallowed only to 
allay the intolerable thirst brought on by a long day's march under 
the hot sun. 



134 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

2. The hard buffalo chase had jaded my horse severely, and at 
such a time I well knew he needed water more than over; but, 
not a drop could I procure for him. In the middle of the after- 
noon, we altered our course somewhat to the north, to avoid the 
bad travelling we found immediately on our route. Small parties 
of men were out in every direction in search of water, but they met 
with no success. 

3. By this time, the want of the reviving element was plainly 
seen in our horses; their wild and glaring eyes, with their broken, 
n^vous, and unsteady action, showing the intensity of th-ir rafter- 
ing. The mules, too, suffered much from the want of water, but 
nothing in comparison with the horses and oxen. The endurance 
of the mule is never so well tested as on a journey where both 
water and grass are scarce. 

4. I have said that w r e continued our journey until the middle 
of the afternoon. About that time, and without seeing any sign 
ahead that could lead us to expect there was so great a change in 
the face of the country, we suddenly reached the brow of a pre- 
cipitous bluff, some two or three hundred feet in height, which 
overlooked a large valley, of broken and rugged appearance. 

5. This valley was four or five miles in width, a ridge of rough 
hills bounding it on the northern side ; and, not only the descent 
to the valley, from the bluff on which we stood, but the whole 
surface below, was covered by dry cedars, apparently killed the 
previous year by fire. The spot upon which we stood was a level 
plain, covered with rank and coarse grass several feet in height. 
This grass, no rain having fallen for weeks, had become as dry as 
tinder. 

G. While consulting as to what course we should pursue, some 
one of our party discovered water at the distance of three or four 
miles across the valley below, a turn in the river bringing it to 
view. We immediately determined, if possible, to effect the 
descent of the steep and ragged bluff before us, and at least 
give our suffering animals a chance to quench their thirst, even 
if the water should prove too brackish for our own use. Some 
thirty-five or forty of the advance-guard instantly determined upon 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 135 

undertaking the toilsome and dangerous descent ; and, to give my 
horse the earliest turn at the water, I accompanied this party. 

I. After winding and picking our way for a full hour, pitching 
down precipices that were nearly perpendicular, and narrowly 
escaping frightful chasms and fissures of the rocks, we were all 
enabled to reach the valley with whole bones ; but, to do this we 
were frequently obliged to dismount from our horses, and, in some 
places, fairly to push them over abrupt descents which they never 
would have attempted without force. I have said that this bluff 
was some two or three hundred feet in height : we travelled at 
least a mile to gain this short distance, so devious and difficult 
was our path. 

8. The side of the bluff was formed of rough, sharp-pointed 
rocks, many of them of large size ; and, every little spot of earth 
had, in former years, given nourishment and support to some crag- 
gy cedar, now left leafless and desolate by fire. Shoots of young- 
cedars, however, were springing up where they could find root-hold ; 
but, they were not destined to attain the rank and standing of their 
sires. 

9. After reaching the valley, we soon found the sandy bed of 
what had been a running stream in the rainy season. Immedi- 
ately on striking it, our tired nags raised their heads, pricked up 
their ears, and set off at a brisk trot, instinctively knowing that 
water was in the vicinity. The horse scents water at an incredi- 
ble distance, and frequently travellers upon the prairies are enabled 
to find it by simply turning their horses or mules loose. A tire- 
some ride of three or four miles now brought us to the river. 

10. On reaching its banks, nothing could restrain our nags 
from dashing headlong down. Equally thirsty ourselves, we had 
fondly hoped that the waters might prove fresh and sweet ; but, 
they were even more brackish than any we had yet tasted. Re- 
pulsive as it was, however, we swallowed enough to moisten our 
parched lips and throats, and ten minutes after were even more 
thirsty than before. Our horses, fonder of this water than of any 
other, drank until apparently they could swallow no more. 

II. "While some of our party were digging into the sand at the 



136 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

edge of the stream, with the hope of finding fresher water, and 
others were enjoying the cooling luxury of a bath, a loud report, 
as of a cannon, was heard in the direction of the eamp, and a 
dark smoke was seen suddenly to rise. "An Indian attack '." 
the startling cry on all sides; and instantly we comm 
huddling on our clothes and bridling OUT horses. One by one, as 
fast as we could get ready, we Bet off for what we supposed to be 
the scene of conflict. 

12. As we neared the camping ground it became plainly 
evident that the prairie was on lire in all directions. When with- 
in a mile of the steep bluff, which cut off the prairie above from 
the valley, the bright flames were seen flashing from the dry 
cedars, and a dense volume of black smoke, rising above all. gave 
a painful sublimitv to the scene. On approaching nearer, we were 
met by some of our companions, who wen- hurriedly seeking a 
passage up the >teep. 

13. They had heard from those on the prairie above, that the 
high grass had caught fire by accident and that with such velocity 
had it spread, that several of the wagons, and among them that 
of the commissioners, had been consumed. This wagon contained, 
in addition to a large number of cartridges, all the trunks and 
valuables of the mess to which I was attached, making me doubly 
anxious to gain the scene of action, and learn the worst. 

14. It afterward proved that the explosion of the cartridges in 
the wagon was what we had mistaken for the report of our 
six-pounder. With redoubled exertions we now pushed forward 
towards the camp ; but, before we could reach the base of the high 
and rugged bluff, the flames were dashing down its sides with 
frightful rapidity, leaping and flashing across the gullies and 
around the hideous cliffs, and roaring in the deep, yawning chasms 
with the wild and appalling noise of a tornado. 

15. As the flames would strike the dry tops of the cedars, 
reports resembling those of the musket would be heard ; and, in 
such quick succession did these reports follow each other, that I can 
compare them to nothing save the irregular discharge of infantry ; 
a strange accompaniment to the wild roar of the devouring element 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 137 

The wind was blowing fresh from the west, when the prairie was 
first ignited, carrying the flames, with a speed absolutely astound- 
ing, over the very ground on which Ave had travelled dming the 
day. 

16. The wind lulled as the sun went down behind the moun- 
tains in the west ; and now the fire beganto spread slowly in that 
direction. The difficult passage by which we had descended was 
cut off by the fire, and night found our party still in the valley, 
unable to discover any other road to the table-land above. Our 
situation was a dangerous one, too ; for, had the wind sprung up 
and veered into the east, we should have found much difficulty in 
escaping ; with such velocity did the flames extend. 



LESSOR XXXIX. 

A PRAIRIE OX FIRE. CONCLUDED. GEORGE W. KENDALL. 

1. If the scene had been grand previously to the going down 
of the sun, its magnificence was increased tenfold as night in vain 
attempted to throw her dark mantle over the earth. The light 
from acres and acres, I might say miles and miles, of inflammable 
and blazing cedars, illuminated earth and sky with a radiance 
even more lustrous and dazzling than that of the noon-day sun. 

2. Ever and anon, as some one of our comrades would approach 
the brow of the high bluff above us, he appeared not like an in- 
habitant of this earth. A lurid and most unnatural glow, reflected 
upon his countenance from the valley of burning cedars, seemed 
to render still more haggard and toilsome his burnt and blackened 
features. 

3. I was fortunate enough, about nine o'clock, to meet one of 
our men, who directed me to a passage up the steep ascent. He 
had just left the bluff above, and gave me a piteous recital of our 
situation. He was endeavoring to find water after several hours 
of increasing toil ; and I left him, with slight hopes that his search 
would be rewarded. 



138 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

4. By this time I was alone, not one of the companions who 
had started with me from tin- river being in Bight or bearing; one 
by one they had dropped off, each searching for some path by 
which he might climb to the table-land above. The first p 

I met, after reaching the prairie, was Mr. Falconer, standing with 
the blackened remnant of a blanket in his hand, and watching 
lest the fire should break ofit in the western side of the camp; for, 
in that direction the exertions of the men, aided by a strong wes- 
terly wind, had prevented the devouring element from spreading. 
Mr. Falconer directed me to tie- spot where our mess was quar- 
tered. 

5. I found them sitting upon such articles as had 1 

from the wagon, their gloomy countenances rendered more de- 
sponding by the reflection from the now distant hie. I w*l too 
much worn down by fatigue and deep anxiety to make many in- 
quiries as to the extent of our loss ; but hungry, and almost choked 
with thirst, 1 threw myself upon the blackened ground, and sought 
forgetfulness in sleep. It was hours, however, before Bleep visited 
my eyelids. From the spot on which I was lying, a broad sheet of 
flame could still be seen, miles and miles in width; tin,' heavens 
in that direction so brilliantly lit up that they resembled a sea of 
molten gold. 

G. In the west, a wall of impenetrable blackness appeared to be 
thrown up, as the spectator suddenly turned from viewing the con- 
flagration in the opposite direction. The subdued yet deep roar 
of the element could still be plainly heard, as it sped on, as with 
the wings of lightning, across the prairies ; while in the valley far 
below, the flames were flashing and leaping among the dry ce- 
dars, and shooting and circling about in manner closely resem- 
bling a magnificent pyrotechnic display ; the general combination 
forming a scene of grandeur and sublimity which the pen shrinks 
from describing, and to which the power of words is wholly 
unequal. 

7. Daylight, the next morning, disclosed a melancholy scene of 
desolation and destruction. North, south, and east, as far as the 
eye could reach, the rough and broken country w T as blackened by 



COBB'S SPEAKEE. 139 

the fire ; and, the removal of the earth's shaggy covering of ce- 
dars and tall grass but laid bare, in painful distinctness, the awful 
chasms and rents in the steep hill-side before us, as well as the 
valley spreading far and wide below. Afar off, in the distance, 
a dense, black smoke was seen rising, denoting that the course of 
the devastating element was still onward. 

8. Two of our wagons only had been entirely destroyed, but 
nearly all had suffered. A part of the baggage in the commis- 
sioners' wagon had been saved by the extraordinary exertions of 
some of the men ; and, just as they had relinquished the work, 
the explosion of cartridges, which had first alarmed the party in 
the valley, scattered the burning fragments of the wagon in every 
direction. 

9. My friend Falconer was so disfigured that I hardly knew 
him. His hair and eyebrows were scorched completely off, his 
face was a perfect blister, his clothes burnt from his back, and, 
without a hat, he seemed as though some insurance-office had met 
with a heavy loss. Object of pity, however, as he appeared to be, 
I still could not help smiling at the sad and wo-begone figure he 
presented. Among the few trunks saved I fortunately found mine, 
containing nearly all my money, clothing, watch, and other val- 
uables. 

10. The loss of a carpet-bag, which contained my boots and 
the rough articles Iwore upon the road, was all I had to regret 
in the way of private property. Not so with the mess to which I 
was attached. The remnant of coffee we still had left was burnt 
entirely too much ; our pots, pans, and kettles, knives and forks, 
were converted into old iron ; every thing was gone ; we had 
nothing to eat, however, except half rations of miserably poor beef, 
and the necessity of falling back upon first principles, or, in other 
words, eating with our fingers, annoyed us but little. 

11. The wagon of the commissioners contained, besides our 
private baggage, a quantity of jewellery, blankets, cartridges, 
rifles, muskets, &c. These were all destroyed. The other wagon 
which was consumed was loaded with goods, and from this noth- 
ing was saved. At one time, the ammunition wagon, containing 



140 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

a large quantity of powder, was on fire, and <>nly saved by the 
daring exertions of some of our men. 

12. It may appear singular t<» some of my reader*, thi 
much damage could be caused by the burning of gram aloi 

on the spot where the wagons were drawn up, there was nothing 
but, it should bo remembered, that this grass was very high, 
had been killed by the dry weather, and flashed up and spread 
almost with the rapidity of a train of powder, on being ignited 

13. It is wry easy, when a fire upon the prairies n seen coining 
towards a parly, to escape it- dangers by kindling the grass imme- 
diately about, and taking possession of the newly burnt ground 
before the distant flames come up; but, in this instance, the fire 
commenced on the windward side, and with a frightful rapidity 
flashed directly along our line of wagons. The only wonder at 
the time was, how any thing had been saved from the furiouf 
ment that roared and crackled around. 



LESSON XL. 

THE NATURAL ADVANTAGES OF AMERICA. WILLIAM KENT. 

1. Turning first to the natural advantages of America, who can 
cast his eye over the broad map of his country, without an expansion 
of feeling, and a proud exultation, which doubt can not shake, nor 
ridicule repress ? If ever the hand of nature visibly pointed to the 
seat of an empire, it will be on the continent of North America. 
It is not national vanity that prompts the remark, since enlightened 
foreigners are the loudest to declare it ; and I now speak under 
the vivid impression of a late French work, by Michael Chevalier, 
on the Internal Communications of the United States. Of all 
foreigners, by the way, the French seem the best to apprehend the 
physical and political qualities of our country ; while the English, 
on the other hand, seem environed in their discussions of America 
by ignorance and prejudice, hopeless and invincible. 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 141 

2. If we wish to place before an inquirer a book which shall 
minutely explain the structure and workings of our complicated 
political system, while it abounds in comprehensive, and even 
sublime views of the progress and destiny of America, where can 
we so well resort as to the writings of the accomplished and philo- 
sophical De Tocqueville? And we find nowhere so perfect a 
description of the physical resources, and great natural features of 
the continent, as in the works of Chevalier, who is, at this moment, 
endeavoring to allure his countrymen to the arts of peace, and the 
benefits of internal improvements, by the example of the infant 
republics of the west. 

3. It is not surprising that France is dear to America, or that 
our hopes and wishes, sometimes without the concurrence of our 
judgment, accompanied her in the vicissitudes of her revolution- 
ary, and even her imperial wars ; since, besides the substantial 
national benefits, which, in our emergency, we have obtained from 
France, it is from her writers alone we receive impartial appre- 
hension of our national qualities, with the enchanting influence of 
French courtesy and politeness. 

4. Your time will not be profitably employed by a lecture on 
the geography of the United States ; yet it may be permitted to 
compress into one or two sentences some of the leading thoughts 
of Chevalier, who, in his glance at the divisions and the water- 
courses of the United States, conveys the most vivid idea of their 
wonderful advantages and resources. The Union, then, consists 
of three great natural divisions. 

5. The first is the Atlantic region, stretching from Maine to 
Florida ; bounded on the west by the Alleghanies, containing the 
thirteen states that fought the battle of the revolution, and have 
now obtained considerable longevity and population, and now pos- 
sess the arts and refinements of civilized life. 

6. The second is the Oregon region, between the Rocky Moun- 
tains and the Pacific, in the possession of only roving Indians, and 
where some unsettled claims as to boundaries must, perhaps, be one 
day settled with the English or the Russians. 

7. The third is the great Central region, the valley of the Mis- 



142 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

sissippi, and its tributaries; "an immense triangle, of which the 
vertex is at the south, and the ba^e at the north ; possessed of a 
temperate climate, traversal by Fast and beautiful w at erc our se s , 
covered by forests, whose majestic vegetation astonishes the Euro- 
pean traveller, and adding to subterranean treasures, the indis- 
pensable requisite to the greatness of nations; b soil, to which 
grand diluvian movements, and accumulated depositee of d< 
vegetation, have given powers of remarkable fertility." 

8. To bring more vividly its picture before you, let the memory 
accompany the currents ofite mighty rivers, compared with which 
the rivers of Europe, and, indeed, of the Eastern world, shrink into 
insignificance. On the north, the chain of the great lakes, those 
magnificent reservoirs of immense masses of crystal waters, supply 
unfailing fountains to the noble St. Lawrence, whose equal stream, 
the same in summer and in winter, in the meltings of spring, and 
the drought of autumn, 

" Like to the Pontic Sea, 
Whose icy current, and compulsive course 
Ne'er feels retiring ebb," 

glides in a rocky channel to the Straits of Belleisle. 

9. Farther west, nature appears on a more extended scale. 
From the north, rising in the smaller lakes, proceeds the Missis- 
sippi proper, limpid, beautiful and majestic, watering a fertile re- 
gion, and passing mines of metal shortly to furnish materials for 
the industry, and accessions to the wealth of the nation. 

10. From the east comes down to join it, with no tribute flood, 
our own Ohio, exhibiting already, in its matchless valley, fertility 
and agricultural productiveness, overpowering to the imagination, 
flowing, first, through the land of the forest, of pn'meval and over- 
shadowing w r oods, lofty in stature, and exuberant in foliage, attest- 
ing the richness of the soil, and the ardors of the sun ; and passing 
thence into the land of the prairie, where luxuriant herbage covers 
the traveller, and w T hose gently swelling plains, like vast undula- 
tions, present, in their season, with wild fertility, the similitude of 
an " ocean of flowers !" 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 143 

11. On the right, in the boldest contrast, wild, turbid, and un- 
controllable, rushes in the mighty Missouri, " coming down 3,000 
miles from among the savages, and impressing its barbarian char- 
acter on the Mississippi." Consistent throughout, no fair lakes 
have produced this Titanian torrent, and no fertility marks its 
progress. Draining for the space of nine degrees of latitude, it 
draws its waters from the clefts and gorges, the torrents and gla- 
ciers of the Rocky Mountains j and, rushing thence eastward, 
through deserts steril and wild as the steppes of Tartary, when 
the heat of summer has dried up its tributaries, it rolls its sullen 
and turbid waves through silent, deserted territories. 

12. And, lastly, we behold those great rivers forming the lower 
Mississippi, poivring its multitudinous waves to their confluence 
with the ocean, attesting the volume of its flood in the undermi- 
ning banks, the extended marshes, the low lagunes, while the rank- 
ness of vegetation, the tropical fruits, the miasmas, and the very 
monsters engendered by its slime, exhibit the ardors of a southern 
sun, and the almost diseased energy of nature ! 

13. Over these extended regions whose water-courses have been 
thus alluded to, as best conveying to a momentary glance an idea 
of their natural unity, the cornucopia of nature has poured its 
boundless profusion ; the fruit, the corn, the vine, the olive, the 
cotton, the cane ; the production of every climate of the temperate 
zones. Nor is the race of men, to whom the sovereignty of these 
regions is evidently committed, unequal to develop their resources, 
and to wield their powers, which the exuberance of nature lays at 
their feet. 



LESSON XLI. 



A WELL CULTIVATED MIND FORMS AN ESSENTIAL INGREDIENT OF 
FEMALE EXCELLENCE. DR. GARDINER SPRING. 

1. We have yet to learn, that the Supreme Creator has denied 
to woman the same capacity for intellectual exertion, which he 
has communicated t:> man ; and that with the same training, the 



lii COBB'S SPEAKER. 

same auxiliaries, and the same incitement, she might not maintain 
her equal progression in every enterprise that demands simply in- 
tellectual endowment But this is a point of no easy decision, and 
of little utility could it be equally decided. 

2. There are those who bo far depreciate the intellectual worth 
of females, aa to believe thai all that is important in female € 
tion, is limited by a thorough acquaintance with domestic philoso- 
phy; and, that to furnish our daughters with any thing beyond 
this, and particularly t<> instruct them in any of the branch 
solid learning and science, ia a superfluity that ill befits their con- 
dition and employment 

3. Bui bow contracted are such news, and how far do they fall 
short of qualifying females tor some of the more nsoml and im- 
portant duties of their sei ! Mind is a glorious endowment; and, 
there ia no reason why the mind of a female should not be culti- 
vated with unwearied assiduity. 

4. Particularly to a female of keen perception, intuitive judg- 
ment, mid fancy, and ready and attentive memory, ••very facility 
of developing and improving her intellectual faculties, which her 
mean- and conation of life can famish, should be afforded I 

kn<>\\ of nothing which a woman may not study and acquire to 
advantage. 

5. If she is ambitious of deserving well, if she is diligent, as her 
experience and reflection become matured, I would not only have 
her well grounded in all the branches of a good English education, 
but I would delight to see her plodding her steady course through 
the departments of classical knowledge; introduced to the mi 

of science in every age; familiar with the history of other times, 
and the biography of other men ; well acquainted with the power 
of numbers ; not meanly instructed in physical and intellectual 
philosophy ; and especially, taught to think and reason, and to 
express her thoughts with propriety, force, and elegance. 

6. No reason exists why the temple of science should be inter- 
dicted to an enterprising female ; and, why its ascent should be 
deemed so rough and difficult that her modest foot may not at- 
tempt it. Every step she gains will reward her exertion, and 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 145 

facilitate her progress ; and, though it may not be her ambition 
to flourish in the republic of letters ; yet if she would be esteemed 
and honored in human society, and become one of its most inval- 
uable blessings, she need not fear extending her acquisitions. 

7. But while we advert to her intellectual cultivation, let us not 
slightly pass over the peculiar advantage of a thorough acquaint- 
ance with moral science. There, every female should be at home. 
The wonders of the Bible have interested and amazed the strong- 
est intellects in creation. And if a female would be interested in 
subjects that can expand, and captivate, and transform her mind, 
that can crucify her affections to the pursuits and enjoyments of 
the world, then must her heart be endeared to the excellences of 
the Bible. 

8. All these courses will strengthen and cultivate her intellec- 
tual powers, and fit her for usefulness. And if she be pious, how 
is her character invested with additional power, when it can put 
in requisition the force and furniture of a well-disciplined and 
richly cultivated mind. The greater variety of intellectual accom- 
plishments she possesses, the more respectable she will become, 
and the more influence will she exert in any sphere which she is 
destined to occupy. 



LESSOR XLII. 

PASSING THROUGH AN ICEBERG. 



[Extract from a Journal kept by a Seaman who served in the Arctic Ex- 
pedition of 1850-51.] 

1. June 30, 1850. — Moored to an iceberg ; weather calm ; sky 
cloudless, and " beautifully blue ;" surrounded by a vast number of 
stupendous bergs, glittering and glistening beneath the refulgent 
rays of a mid-day sun. 

2. A great portion of the crew had gone on shore to gather the 
eggs of the wild sea-birds that frequent the lonely ice-bound preci- 

7 



146 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

pices of Baffin's Bay, while those od board had retired to rest, 
wearied with the harassing toils of the preceding day. 

3. To me, walking the deek and alone, all nature Beemed boshed 
in universal repose. \Yliil«' thus contemplating the >tillu«-^s of the 
monotonous seene around me, I observed in the oiling a large ice- 
berg, completely perforated, exhibiting in the distance an arch, ox 
tunnel, apparently s.> uniform in its conformation, that 1 was in- 
duced to call two of the Beamen t<> look at it, at tlir same time 
telling them that I had never read or heard of any of our Arctic 
voyagers passing through one of those arches so frequently seen 
through large bergs, and that there would be a novelty in doing 

so, and it they chose to accompany me, I would get permiiaion to 

take the dingy, (a small boat.) and endeavor to accomplish the 
unprecedented feat They readily agreed, and away we went 

4. On nearing the arch, and ascertaining that there was a suf- 
ficiency of water for the boat to pas^ through, we rowed slowly 
and silently under, when there burst upon our view one of tie- 
most magnificent specimen^ of nature's handiwork ever exhibited 
to mortal eyes ; the sublimity and grandeur of which no language 
can describe; no imagination conceive. 

5. Fancy an immense arch of 80 feet span, 50 feet high, and 
upward of 100 in breadth, as correct in its conformation as if it 
had been constructed by the most scientific artist ; formed of solid 
ice of a beautiful emerald green, its whole expanse of surface 
smoother than the most polished alabaster, and you may form 
some slight conception of the architectural beauties of this icy tem- 
ple, the wonderful workmanship of time and the elements. 

6. When we had got about half way through the mighty struc- 
ture, on looking upward, I observed that the berg was split the 
whole breadth of the arch, and in a perpendicular direction to its 
summit, showing two vertical sections of regular surfaces, " darkly, 
deeply, beautifully blue," here and there illumined by an arctic 
sun which darted its golden rays between, presenting to the eye a 
picture of ethereal grandeur which no poet could describe, no 
painter portray. 

7. I was so enraptured with the sight, that for a moment I fan- 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 147 

ciecl the " blue vault of heaven" had opened, and that I actually 
gazed on the celestial splendor of a world beyond this. But, alas ! 
in an instant the scene changed, and I awoke as it were from a 
delightful dream, to experience all the horrors of a terrible reality. 
I observed the fracture rapidly close, then again slowly open. 

8. This stupendous mass of ice, millions of tuns in weight, was 
afloat, consequently in motion, and apparently about to lose its 
equilibrium, capsize, or burst into fragments. Our position was 
truly awful ; my feelings at the moment may be conceived, but 
can not be described. I looked downward and around me ; the 
sight was equally appalling ; the very sea seemed agitated. I at 
last shut my eyes from a scene so terrible, the men at the oars, as 
if by instinct, " gave way," and our little craft swiftly glided from 
beneath the gigantic mass. 

9. We then rowed around the berg, keeping at a respectable 
distance from it, in order to judge of its magnitude. I supposed 
it to be about a mile in circumference, and its highest pinnacle 
250 feet. 

10. Thus ended an excursion, the bare recollection of which, at 
this moment, awakens in me a shudder ; nevertheless, I would 
not have lost the opportunity of witnessing a scene so awfully 
sublime, so tragically grand, for thousands sterling ; but I would 
not again run such a risk for a world. 

11. We passed through the berg about two P. M., and at ten 
o'clock the same night it burst, agitating the sea for miles around. 
I may also observe that the two men who were with me in 
the boat, did not observe that the berg was rent until I told 
them, after we were out of danger, we having agreed previously to 
entering the arch, not to speak a word to each other, lest echo 
itself should disturb the fragile mass. 

12. Arctic voyagers differ as to what portion of an iceberg is 
under water. Some say one-fifth ; some one-seventh ; some more. 
I refer the reader to the works of Ross and Parry as the best 
authorities. 



148 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

LESSON XLIII. 

ENVIRONS OF MEXICO. INTERVIEW OF CORTES AND MONTEZUMA. 



1. With the first faint streak of dawn, the Spanish general was 
up, mustering his followers. They gathered, with beating hearts, 
under their respective banners, ae the trumpet Bent forth its spirit- 
stirring sounds across water and woodland, till khey died sway in 
distant echoes among the mountains. The sacred fiames on the 
altars of uumberless teocallit, dimly seeu through the gray mists 
of morning, indicated the Bite of the capital, till temple, tower, and 
palace were fully revealed in the glorious illumination which the 
sun, as he rose above the eastern barrier, poured over the beautiful 
valley. It was the eighth of November, 1519; a conspicuous 
day in history, as that on which the Europeans first set foot in the * 
capital of the Western World. 

2. Cortes with his little body of horse formed a sort of advanced, i 
guard to the army. Then came the Spanish infantry, who in a/^ 
summer's campaign had acquired the discipline, and the weather- ^ 
beaten aspect of veterans. The baggage occupied the centre ; and 

the rear was closed by the dark files of Tlascalan warriors. The 
whole number must have fallen short of seven thousand ; of which 
less than four hundred were Spaniards. 

3. For a short distance, the army kept along the narrow tongue 
of land that divides the Tezcucan from the Chalcan waters, when 
it entered on the great dike, which, with the exception of an angle 
near the commencement, stretches in a perfectly straight line 
across the salt floods of Tezcuco to the gates of the capital. It 
was the same causeway, or rather the basis of that, which still 
forms the great southern avenue of Mexico. The Spaniards had 
occasion more than ever to admire the mechanical science of the 
Aztecs, in the geometrical precision with which the work was 
executed, as well as the solidity of its construction. It was com- 
posed of huge stones well laid in cement ; and wide enough, 
throughout its whole extent, for ten horsemen to ride abreast. 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 149 

4. They saw, as they passed along, several large towns, resting 
on piles, and reaching far into the water ; a kind of architecture 
which found great favor with the Aztecs, being in imitation of 
that of their metropolis. The busy population obtained a good 
subsistence from the manufacture of salt, which they extracted from 
the waters of the great lake. The duties on the traffic in this 
article were a considerable source of revenue to the crown. 

5. Everywhere the Conquerors beheld the evidence of a crowded 
and thriving population, exceeding all that they had yet seen. 
The temples and principal buildings of the cities were covered 
with a hard white stucco, which glistened like enamel in the level 
beams of the morning. The margin of the great basin was more 
thickly gemmed, than that of Chalco, with towns and hamlets. 
The water was darkened by swarms of canoes filled with Indians, 
who clambered up the sides of the causeway, and gazed with curious 
astonishment on the strangers. 

6. And here, also, they beheld those fairy islands of flowers, 
overshadowed occasionally by trees of considerable size, rising and 
falling with the gentle undulation of the billows. At the distance 
of half a league from the capital, they encountered a solid work 
or curtain of stone, which traversed the dike. It was twelve feet 
high, was strengthened by towers at the extremities, and in the 
centre was a battlemented gate-way, which opened a passage to 
the troops. It was called the Fort of Xoloc, and became memo- 
rable in aftertimes as the position occupied by Cortes in the 
famous siege of Mexico. 

1. Here they were met by several hundred Aztec chiefs, who 
came out to announce the approach of Montezuma, and to welcome 
the Spaniards to his capital. They were dressed in the fanciful 
gala costume of the country, with the maxtlatl, or cotton sash, 
around their loins, and a broad mantle of the same material, or of 
the brilliant feather-embroidery, flowing gracefully down their 
shoulders. On their necks and arms they displayed collars and 
bracelets of turquoise mosaic, with which delicate plumage was 
curiously mingled, while their ears, under lips, and occasionally 
their noses, were garnished with pendants formed of precious stones, 



150 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

or crescents of fine gold. As each cacique made the usual bnul 
salutation of the country separately to the general, the tedious 
ceremony delayed the march more than an hour. After this, the 
army experienced no farther interruption till it reached a bridge 
near the gates of the city. 

8. It was built of wood, since replaced by one of stone, .ml 
was thrown across an opening of the dike, which furnished an out- 
let to the w;it»-r-, when agitated by the winds, or swollen by a 
sudden influx in the rainy season. It was a draw-bridge; and 
the Spaniards, as they crossed it, felt how truly they were commit- 
ting themselves to the mercy of Montezuma, who, by thus cutting 
off their communications with the country, might hold them 
prisoners jn his capital. 

9. In the midst of these unpleasant reflections, they beheld the 
glittering retinue of the emperor emerging from the great street 
which led then, as it still does, through the heart of the city. 
Amidst a crowd of Indian nobles, preceded by three officers of 
state, bearing golden wands, they saw the royal palanquin blazing 
with burnished gold. It was borne on the shoulders of nobles, 
and over it a canopy of gaudy feather-work, powdered with jewels, 
and fringed w r ith silver, was supported by four attendants of the 
same rank. They were bare-footed, and walked with a slow, 
measured pace, and with eyes bent on the ground. When the 
train had come within a convenient distance, it halted, and 
Montezuma, descending from his litter, came forward leaning on 
the arms of the lords of Tezcuco and Iztapalapan, his nephew 
and brother, both of whom, as we have seen, had already been 
made known to the Spaniards. 

10. As the monarch advanced under the canopy, the obsequi- 
ous attendants strowed the ground with cotton tapestry, that his 
imperial feet might not be contaminated by the rude soil. His 
subjects of high and low degree, who lined the sides of the cause- 
way, bent forward with their eyes fastened on the ground as he 
passed, and some of the humbler class prostrated themselves 
before him. Such was the homage paid to the Indian despot, 



COBB'S SPEAKEK. 151 

showing that the slavish forms of Oriental adulation were to be 
found among the rude inhabitants of the Western World. 

1 1 . Montezuma wore the girdle and ample square cloak, til- 
matli, of his nation. It was made of the finest cotton, with the 
embroidered ends gathered in a knot around his neck. His feet 
were defended by sandals having soles of gold, and the leathern 
thongs which bound them to his ankles were embossed with the 
same metal. Both the cloak and sandals were sprinkled with 
pearls and precious stones, among which the emerald and the 
chalchivitl, a green stone of higher estimation than any other 
among the Aztecs, were conspicuous. On his head he wore no 
other ornament than a panache of plumes of the royal green which 
floated down his back, the badge of military, rather than of regal, 
rank. 

12. He was at this time about forty years of age. His person 
was tall and thin, but not ill made. His hair, which was black 
and straight, was not very long ; to wear it short was considered 
unbecoming persons of rank. His beard was thin ; his complex- 
ion somewhat paler than is often found in his dusky, or rather 
copper-colored race. His features, though serious in their expres- 
sion, did not wear the look of melancholy, indeed, of dejection, 
which characterizes his portrait, and which may well have settled 
on them at a later period. He moved with dignity, and his whole 
demeanor, tempered by an expression of benignity not to have 
been anticipated from the reports circulated of his character, was 
worthy of a great prince. Such is the portrait left to us of the 
celebrated Indian emperor, in this his first interview with the 
white men. 

13. The army halted as he drew near. Cortes, dismounting, 
threw his reins to a page, and, supported by a few of the principal 
cavaliers, advanced to meet him. The interview must have been 
one of uncommon interest to both. In Montezuma, Cortes beheld 
the lord of the broad realms he had traversed, whose magnificence 
and power bad been the burden of every tongue. In the Span- 
iard, on the other hand, the Aztec prince saw the strange being 
whose history seemed to be so mysteriously connected with his 



152 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

own ; the predicted one of his oracles, whose achievements pro- 
claimed him something more than human. But, whatever may 
have been the monarch's feelings, he bo far suppressed them si to 
receive his guest with princely courtesy, and to express his satis- 
faction at personally seeing aim in his capital. 

14. Cortes responded l>y the moat profound! expressioni 
while he made ample acknowledgments for the substantia] proofb 
which the emperor had given the Spaniards of his mnnifi 
He then hung around Montezuma's Deck a sparkling chain of 
colored crystal, accompanying tins with a movement as it' ho em- 
brace him, when he was restrained by the two Aztec lords, sh 
at the menaced profanation of the sacred person of their master. 
After the interchange of these civilities, Montezuma appointed bis 
brother to conduct the Spaniards to their residence in the capital, 
and again entering his litter, was borne off amidst prostrate crowds 
in the same state in which he had come. The Spaniards quickly 
followed, and with c ilors flying and music playing Boon made 
their entrance into the southern quarter of Tenochtitlan, 



LESSON XLIV. 

THE LSIULE. REV. RALPH BOOT. 

Bible ! Blessed Bible ! 
art ! 

What sweet consolation, 
Doth thy page impart; 

In the fiercest trial, 
In the deepest gi'ief, 

Strength, and hope, and comfort, 
In each holy leaf. 

Bible, let me clasp thee, 

Anchor of the soul ! 
When the storm is raging, 

When the waters roll, 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 153 

When the frowning heavens 

Darken every star, 
And no hopeful beacon, 

Glimmereth afar, 
Be my refuge, Bible ! 

Then be thou my stay, 
Guide me on life's billow, 

Light the dreary way. 

3. Tell me of the morrow, 

When a sun shall rise, 
That shall glow for ever, 

In unclouded skies ; 
Tell me of that haven 

In the climes above, 
Where the bark rides safely 

In a sea of love. 

4. Bible, let me clasp thee ! 

Chronicle divine, 
Of a world's redemption, 

Of a Saviour, mine ! 
Wisdom for the simple, 

Riches for the poor, 
Hope for the desponding, 

For the sick, a cure. 
Rest for all the weary, 

Ransom for the slave, 
Courage for the fearful, 

Life beyond the grave 

5. Bible! Blessed Bible ! 

Treasure of the heart, 
What sweet consolation, 
Doth thy page impart ; 
1* 



154 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

In the fiercest trial, 
In the deepest grief, 

Strength, and hope, and comfort, 
In each holy hat'. 



LESSON XLV. 

A PEKILOUS SITUATION. AUDUBON. 

1. On my return from the Upper Mississippi, I found myself 
obliged to cross one of the wild prairies, which in that portion of 
the United States vary the appearance of the country. The 

weather was fine; all around me was a> fresh and blooming as if 
it had just issued from the bosom of nature. My knapsack, my 
gun, and my dog, were all I had for baggage and company. The 
track which I followed was an old Indian trace; and, as darkness 
overshadowed the prairie, I felt some desire to reach at least a 
copse, in which I might lie down to rest 

2. The night-hawks were skimming over and around me, at- 
tracted by the buzzing wings of the beetles, which form their food, 
and the distant howling of wolves gave me some hope that I should 
soon arrive at the skirt of some woodland. I did so ; and, almost 
at the same instant, a fire-light attracting my eye, I moved tow- 
ards it, full of confidence that it proceeded from the camp of 
some wandering Indians. I was mistaken : I discovered from its 
glare that it was from the hearth of a small log cabin, and that 
a tall figure passed and repassed between it and me, as if busOy 
engaged in household arrangements. 

3. I reached the spot, and, presenting myself at the door, asked 
the tall figure, which proved to be a woman, if I might take shel- 
ter under her roof for the night. Her voice was gruff, and her 
attire negligently thrown about her. She answered in the affirm- 
ative. I walked in, took a wooden stool, and quietly seated my- 
self by the fire. The next object that attracted my attention was 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 155 

a finely-formed young Indian, resting his head between his hands, 
with his elbows upon his knees. A long bow rested against the 
log wall near him, while a quantity of arrows and two or three 
rackoon-skins lay at his feet. He moved not; he apparently 
breathed not. 

4. Accustomed to the habits of the Indians, and knowing that 
they pay little attention to the approach of civilized strangers, (a 
circumstance which, in some countries, is considered as evincing 
the apathy of their character,) I addressed him in French, a lan- 
guage not unfrequently partially known to the people in that 
neighborhood. He raised his head, pointed to one of his eyes with 
his- finger, and gave me a significant glance with the other. His 
face was covered with blood. The fact was, that an hour before 
this, as he was in the act of discharging an arrow at a rackoon in 
the top of a tree, the arrow split upon the cord, and sprang back 
with such violence into his right eye, as to destroy it for ever. 

5. Feeling hungry, I inquired what sort of fare I was to expect. 
Such a thing as a bed was not to be seen, but many large 
untanned bear and buffalo hides lay piled in a corner. I drew a 
fine time-piece from my breast, and told the woman that it was 
late, and that I was fatigued. She had espied my watch, the 
richness of which seemed to operate upon her feelings with electric 
quickness. She told me there was plenty of venison and jerked 
buffalo meat, and that, on removing the ashes, I should find a 
cake. But my watch had struck her fancy, and her curiosity had 
to be gratified by an immediate sight of it. 

6. I took off the gold chain that seemed it, from around my 
neck, and presented it to her. She was all ecstasy, spoke of its 
beauty, asked me its value, and put the chain around her brawny 
neck, saying how happy the possession of such a watch would 
make her. Thoughtless, and, as I fancied myself in so retired a 
spot, secure, I paid little attention to her talk or her movements. 
I helped my dog to a good supper of venison, and was not long- 
in satisfying the demands of my own appetite. 

7. The Indian rose from his seat, as if in extreme suffering. He 
passed and repassed me several times, and once pinched me on 



156 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

the side so violently, that the pain nearly brought forth an excla- 
mation of anger. I looked at him. His eye met mine ; but his 
look was so forbidding, that it struck a chill into the more nervous 
part of my system. He again seated himself, drew his bukhei- 
knife from his greasy scabbard, examined its edge as I would do 
that of a razor suspected dull, replaced it, and, again taking his 
tomahawk from his back, filled the pipe of it with tobacco, and 
sent me expressive glances whenever our hostess chanced to have 
her back towards as. 

8. Never until that moment had my senses been awakened to 
the danger which I now suspected to be about me. I returned 
glance for glance with my companion, and became well ai 
that whatever enemies I might have, he was not of their number. 

9. I asked the woman for my watch, wound it up, and under 
pretence of wishing to see how the weather might probably be on 
the morrow, took up my gun, and walked out of the cabin. I 
slipped a ball into each barrel, scraped the edges of my flints re- 
newed the primings, returned to the hut, and gave a favorable 
account of my observation. I took up a few bear-skins, made a 
pallet of them, and, calling my faithful dog to my side, lay down 
with my gun close to my body, and in a few minutes was, to all 
appearance, fast asleep. 

10. A short time had elapsed, when some voices were heard; 
and, from the corner of my eyes, I saw two athletic youths making 
their entrance, bearing a dead stag on a pole. They disposed of 
their burden, and, asking for whiskey, helped themselves freely to 
it. Observing me and the wounded Indian, they asked who I 
was, and why that rascal, (meaning the Indian, who they knew 
understood not a word of English,) was in the house. 

11. The mother, (for so she proved to be,) bade them speak less 
loudly, made mention of my watch, and took them to a corner, 
where a conversation took place, the purport of which it required 
little shrewdness in me to guess. I tapped my dog gently. He 
moved his tail ; and, with indescribable pleasure, I saw his fine 
eyes alternately fixed on me and raised towards the trio in the 



COBB'S SPEAKEK. 157 

corner. I felt that he perceived the danger of my situation. The 
Indian exchanged a glance with me. 

12. The lads had eaten and drunken themselves into such a 
condition, that I already looked upon them as hors de combat ; 
and the frequent visits of the whiskey bottle to the ugly mouth of 
their dam, I hoped, would soon reduce her to a like state. Judge 
of my astonishment, when I saw this incarnate fiend take a large 
carving-knife, and go to the grindstone to whet its edge. 

13. I saw her pour the water on the turning machine, and 
watched her working away the dangerous instrument, until the 
cold sweat covered every part of my body, in §pite of my determi- 
nation to defend myself to the last. Her task finished, she walked 
to her reefing sons, and said, " There, that'll soon settle him !" 
She then directed them to kill the Indian while she despatched 
me. 

14. I turned, made ready my gun silently, touched my faithful 
companion, and lay ready to start up and shoot the first that 
should attempt my life. The moment was fast approaching, and 
that night might have been my last had not Providence made prep- 
arations for my rescue. All was ready. The old hag was 
advancing slowly, probably contemplating the best way of despatch- 
ing me, while her sons should be engaged with the Indian. I was 
several times on the eve of rising and shooting her on the spot ; 
but she was not to be punished thus. The door was suddenly 
opened, and there entered two stout travellers, each with a long 
rifle on his shoulder. I bounced upon my feet, and making them 
most heartily welcome, told them how well it was for me, that 
they should have arrived at that moment. 

15. The tale was told in a moment. The drunken sons were 
secured, and the woman, in spite of her defence and vociferations, 
shared the same fate. The wounded Indian fairly danced with 
joy, and gave us to understand that as he could not sleep for pain, 
he would watch over us. You may suppose that we slept much 
less than we talked. The two strangers told me that they them- 
selves had once been in a somewhat similar situation. 

16. The next morning our captives were unbound; and, after 



158 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

inflicting upon them a proper chastisement, and suitably rewarding 
the friendly Indian, we set off towards the settlements. During 
upwards of twenty-five years, when my wandering extended to all 
parts of our country, this was the only time at which my life was 
in danger from my fellow-creatures. Indeed, so little ri.sk do 
travellers run in the United States, that no one born there ever 
dreams of any danger to be encountered on the road ; and, I can 
only account for this occurrence by supposing that the inhabitants 
of the cabin were not Americans. 



LESSON XLVI. 



THE CREATOR TO BE REMEMBERED IN YOUTH. — ECCLE8IA8TE8, 
CHAPTER XII. BIBLE. 

1. Remember now thy Creator in the days of thy youth, while 
the evil days come not, nor the years draw nigh, when thou shalt 
say, I have no pleasure in them ; 

While the sun, or the light, or the moon, or the stars, be not 
darkened, nor the clouds return after the rain : 

In the day when the keepers of the house shall tremble, and 
the strong men shall bow themselves, and the grinders cease be- 
cause they are few, and those that look out of the windows be 
darkened ; 

2. And the doors shall be shut in the streets, when the sound 
of the grinding is low, and he shall rise up at the voice of the bird, 
and all the daughters of music shall be brought low ; 

Also when they shall be afraid of that which is high, and fears 
shall be in the way, and the almond-tree shall flourish, and the 
grasshopper shall be a burden, and desire shall fail ; because man 
goeth to his long home, and the mourners go about the streets : 

3. Or ever the silver cord be loosed, or the golden bowl be 
broken, or the pitcher be broken at the fountain, or the wheel 
broken at the cistern : 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 159 

Then shall the dust return to the earth as it was ; and the 
spirit shall return unto God who gave it. 

4. Vanity of vanities, saith the Preacher ; all is vanity. 

And, moreover, because the Preacher was wise, he still taught 
the people knowledge ; yea, he gave good heed, and sought out, 
and set in order, many proverbs. 

The Preacher sought to find out acceptable words ; and that 
which was written was upright, even words of truth. 

5. The words of the wise are as goads, and as nails fastened by 
the masters of assemblies, which are given from one shepherd. 

And farther, by these, my son, be admonished : of making- 
many books there is no end ; and much study is a weariness of 
the flesh. 

6. Let us hear the conclusion of the whole matter ; Fear God, 
and keep his commandments : for this is the whole duty of man. 

For God shall bring every work into judgment, with every se- 
cret thing, whether it be good, or whether it be evil. 



LESSON XLVII. 
st. peter's church at rome. — j. t. headly. 

1. Now for a chapter of statistics. I hate them, but in no 
other way can you get an idea of the size of St. Peter's. I will 
not give you feet and inches, but say that you could pile about 
twelve such as Trinity Church, New York, into St. Peter's, and 
have considerable room left for walking about. By taking off the 
steeples, you could arrange two rows of them in the church, three 
in a row ; then clap on the steeples again under the dome, and 
they would reach a trifle more than half way to the top. You 
could put two churches like the Trinity under the dome, and have 
the entire nave of the church and both side-aisles wholly unoccupied. 

2. Take three Astor-houses, and place them lengthwise, and 
they would extend the length of the inside of St. Peter's : make a 



160 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

double row of them, and they would till it half way up to the roof, 
pretty snug. Thirty or forty common churches could be itowed 
away in it without much trouble; and, the four columns that 
support the dome are each larger than an ordinary dwelling-house. 
But this is nothing: the marble, the statuary, the costly tombs, 
the architecture, the art, arc indescribable, 

3. I will now describe the closing up of Easter Sunday. It is 
a principle in all Catholic ceremonies, never to wind off gradually, 
as is too frequently the case among Protestants, but to have the 
last display the most magnificent of all. Tims, on Easter Sunday, 
the dosing up of Holy Week, the Papal throne crowds its entire 
pomp into its ceremonies. * * * * * 

4. This great huilding, covering several acres, is illuminated on 
its entire outer surface. It is caused by suspending four thousand 
four hundred lanterns upon it, covering it from the dome down. 
To accomplish this, men have to be let down with ropes, over 
every part of the edifice, and left dangling there for more than an 
hour. Even from the base of the church, they appear like insects 
creeping over the surface. Hanging down the precipitous sides 
of the immense dome, standing four hundred feet high in the air, 
is attended with so much danger, that the eighty men employed 
in it always receive extreme unction before they attempt it. 

5. There are two illuminations. The first is called the silver 
one, and commences about eight o'clock in the evening. These 
four thousand four hundred lamps are so arranged as to reveal 
the entire architecture of the building. Every column, cornice, 
frieze, and window ; all the details of the building, and the entire 
structure, are revealed in a soft, clear light, producing an elfect in- 
describably pleasing, yet utterly bewildering. It seems an im- 
mense alabaster building, lit from within. 

6. The long lines of light made by the columns, with the shad- 
ows between, the beautiful cornice glittering over the darkness 
under it; the magnificent semicircular colonnades all inherent with 
light, and every one of the one hundred and ninety-two statues 
along its top surmounted with a lamp, and the immense dome 
rising over all like a mountain of molten silver, in the deep darkness 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 161 

around, so completely delude the sense, that one can think of 
nothing but a fairy fabric suddenly lighted and hung in mid-heav- 
ens. This effect, however, is given only when one stands at a dis- 
tance. The Pincian hill is the spot from which to view it. All 
around is buried in deep darkness, except that steadily shining 
glory. Not a sound is heard to break the stillness, and you gaze, 
and gaze, expecting every moment to see the beautiful vision fade. 
But it still shines calmly on. 

V. This illumination lasts from eight to nine ; and just as the 
bell of the Cathedral strikes nine, sending its loud and solemn 
peal over the city, a thousand four hundred and seventy-five torch- 
es are suddenly kindled, besides the lanterns. The change is 
instantaneous and almost terrific. The air seems to waver to and 
fro in the sudden light ; shape and form are lost for a moment, 
and the vision which just charmed your senses is melted and flow- 
ing together. 

8. The next moment old St. Peter's again draws its burning out- 
line against the black sky, and stands like a mountain of torches 
in the deep night, with a fiery cross burning at the top. How the 
glorious structure burns, yet unconsumed ! The flames wrap it 
in their fierce embrace, and yet not a single detail is lost in the 
conflagration. There is the noble facade in all its harmony, and 
yet on fire ! There are the immense colonnades wavering in the 
light, changed only in that they are now each a red marble shaft. 
The statues stand unharmed, and all fiery figures. 

9. The dome is a vast fire-ball in the darkness, yet its distinct 
outline remains as clear as at the first. The whole mighty edifice 
is there, but built all of flame ; columns, frieze, cornice, windows, 
domes, cross : a temple of fire, perfect in every part, flashing, sway- 
ing, burning in mid-heavens. The senses grow bewildered in gazing 
on its intense brilliancy, and the judgment pronounces it an opti- 
cal illusion, unreal, fantastical. 

10. Yet the next moment it stands corrected : that w St. Peter's 
flaming, unwasted in the murky heavens. Hour after hour it 
blazes on, and the last torch is yet unextinguished when the gray 
twilight of morning opens in the east. 



162 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

LESSON XLVIII. 

TRIBUTE TO THE ENTERPRISING SPIRIT OF THE NEW ENGLAND 
LO N I STS . BUBXS. 

1. As to the wealtli, Mr. Speaker, -which the colonic have 
drawn from the sea by their fisheries, you had all that matter 
fully opened at your bar. You surely thought those acquisitions 
of value, fur they seemed even to excite your envy ; and yet the 
spirit by which that enterprising employment has been earn 
ought rather, in my opinion, to have raised your esteem and ad- 
miration. 

2. And pray, sir, what in the world is equal to it ? Pass by 
the other parts, and look at the manner in which (he people of 
New England have of late carried on the whale fishery. While 
we follow them among the tumbling mountains of ice, and be- 
hold them penetrating into the deepest frozen recesses of Btidson'i 
Bay and Davis's Straits, while we are looking for them beneath 
the Arctic Circle, we hear that they have pierced into the opposite 
region of polar cold, that they are at the antipodes, and engaged 
under the frozen serpent of the south. 

3. Falkland Island, which seemed too remote and romantic an 
object for the grasp of national ambition, is but a stage and rest- 
ing-place in the progress of their victorious industry. Nor is the 
equinoctial heat more discouraging to them, than the accumulated 
winter of both the poles. We know that while some of them 
draw the line and strike the harpoon on the coast of Africa, others 
run the longitude and pursue their gigantic game along the coast 
of Brazil. No sea but that is vexed by their fisheries. No cli- 
mate that is not witness to their toils. 

4. Neither the perseverance of Holland, nor the activity of 
France, nor the dexterous and firm sagacity of English enterprise, 
ever carried this most perilous mode of hardy industry to the ex- 
tent to which it has been pushed by this recent people ; a people 
who are still, as it were, but in the gristle, and not yet hardened 
into the bone of manhood. 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 163 

5. When I contemplate these things ; when I know that the 
colonies, in general, owe little or nothing to any care of ours, and 
that they are not squeezed into this happy form by the constraints 
of a watchful and suspicious government, but that, through a wise 
and salutary neglect, a generous nature has been suffered to take 
her own way to perfection : when I reflect upon these effects ; 
when I see how profitable they have been to us, I feel all the 
pride of power sink, and all presumption in the wisdom of human 
contrivances melt and die away within me. My rigor relents. I 
pardon something to the spirit of liberty. 



LESSON XLIX. 

THE CHIPPEWA CHIEFS AND GENERAL TAYLOR. FROM THE NA- 
TIONAL ERA. 

1. On the third day after the arrival of General Taylor at 
Washington, the Indian chiefs requested me to seek an interview 
for them. They were about to leave for their homes, on Lake 
Superior, and greatly desired to see the new President before their 
departure. It was accordingly arranged, by the general, to see 
them the next morning, at nine o'clock, before the usual reception 
hour. 

2. Fitted out in their very best, with many items of finery 
which their taste for the imposing had added to their wardrobe, 
the delegation and their interpreter accompanied me to the recep- 
tion-room, and General Taylor cordially took them by the hand. 
One of the chiefs arose, and addressed the President, elect, nearly 
as follows : 

3. " Father ! We are glad to see you, and we are pleased to 
see you so well after your long journey. 

4. u Father ! We are the representatives of about twenty thou- 
sand of your red children, and are just about leaving for our 
homes, for off in Lake Superior ; and, we are very much gratified, 



164 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

that, before our departure, wo have the opportunity of shaking 
hands with you. 

5. "Father! You have conquered your country'i BDMHM in 

war; may you subdue the enemies of your administration while 
you are President of the United States, and govern tin- 
country, like the great father, Washington, before you, with wis- 
dom and in peao . 

6. "Fatberl This our visit through the country and to the 

cities of your white children, and the wonderful things that we 
have seen, impress na with awe, and can— ni to think that the 

white man ifl the favored of the Greal Spirit. 

7. "Father! In the midst of the great bkaringa with which 
you and your white children are favored of the (Jr«*at Spirit, we 
ask of you, while you are in power, not to forget your leu fortu- 
nate red children. They are now few, and scattered, and poor. 
You can help them. 

8. "Father ! Although a successful warrior, we have heard of 
your humanity ! And now that we see you face to fact-, we are 
satisfied that you have a heart to feel for your poor rod children. 
Father! Farewell i" 

U. The tall, manly-looking chief having finished and shaken 
hands, General Taylor asked him to be seated; and, rising him- 
self, replied nearly as follows ! 

10. u My Bed Children ! I am very happy to have this inter- 
view with you. What you have said I have listened to with in- 
terest. It is the more appreciated by me, as I am no stranger to 
your people. I resided for a length of time on your borders, and 
have been witness to your privations, and am acquainted with 
many of your wants. 

11. " Peace must be established and maintained between your- 
selves and the neighboring tribes of the red men ; and, you need, 
in the next place, the means of subsistence. 

12. "My Red Children! I thank you for your kind wishes 
expressed for me personally, and as President of the United States. 

13. "While I am in office, I shall use my influence to keep 
you at peace with the Sioux, between whom and the Chippewa3 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 165 

there has always been a most deadly hostility, fatal to the pros- 
perity of both nations. I shall also recommend that you be pro- 
vided with the means of raising corn and the other necessaries 
of life. 

14. "My Red Children ! I hope that you have met with suc- 
cess in your present visit, and that you may return to your homes 
without an accident by the way ; and, I bid you say to your red 
brethren, that I cordially wish them health and prosperity. Fare- 
well." 

15. This interesting interview closed with a general shaking of 
hands ; and, during the addresses, it is creditable to the parties to 
say, that their feelings were reached. 



LESSON L. 

OH MOTHER, WOULD THE POWER WERE MINE." MARGARET 

DAVISON. 

1. Oh mother, would the power were mine, 

To wake the strain thou lov'st to hear, 
And breathe each trembling, new-born thought, 

Within thy fondly listening ear ; 
As w T hen in days of youth and glee 
My hopes and fancies wandered free. 

2. But, mother, now a shade has past 

Athwart my brightest visions here, 
A cloud of darkest gloom has wrapped 

The remnant of my brief career ! 
No song, no echo can I win, 
The sparkling fount has died within. 

3. The torch of earthly hope burns dim, 

And fancy spreads her wings no more ; 
And oh, how vain and trivial seem, 
The pleasures that I prized before. 



166 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

My soul with trembling steps and slow, 
As struggling on through doubt and strife, 

Oh may it prove, as time rolLs on, 
The pathway to eternal life ; 

Then, when my cares and fears are o'er, 

I'll sing thee as in days of yore. 

4. I said that hope had patted from earth ; 

'T was but to fold her wings in heaven ; 
To whisper of the soul's new birth, 

Of sinners saved, and sins forgiven. 
When mine are washed in tear- away, 
Then shall my spirit swell its lay. 

5. When God shall guide my soul above, 

By the soft cords of heavenly love, 
When the vain cares of earth depart, 

And tuneful voices swell my heart, 
Then shall each word, each note I raise, 

Burst forth in pealing hymns of praise ; 
And all not offered at his shrine, 
Dear mother, I will place on thine. 



LESSON LI. 

OUR WONDROUS ATMOSPHERE. QUARTERLY REVIEW. 

1. The atmosphere rises above us with its dome, arching tow- 
ards the heavens, of which it is the most familiar synonyme and 
symbol. It floats around us, like that grand object which the 
Apostle John saw in his vision ; " a sea of glass like unto crys- 
tal." 

2. So massive is it that when it stirs it tosses about great ships, 
like playthings, and sweeps cities and forests, like snow-flakes, to 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 167 

destruction before it; and yet is so subtile that we have lived 
years in it before we can be persuaded that it exists at all ; and 
the great bulk of mankind never realize the truth that they are 
bathed in an ocean of air. Its weight is so enormous that iron 
shivers before it like glass ; yet a soap ball sails through it with 
impunity, and the thinnest insect waves it aside with its wing. 

3. It ministers lavishly to all the senses. We touch it not, but 
it touches us. Its warm south winds bring back color to the face 
of the invalid ; its cool west winds refresh the fevered brow, and 
make the blood mantle in our cheeks ; even its north blast braces 
into new vigor the hardened children of our rugged climate. 

4. The eye is indebted to it for all the magnificence of sunrise, 
the full brightness of mid-day, the chastened radiance of the twi- 
light, and the clouds that cradle near the setting sun. But for it, 
the rainbow would want its " triumphal arch," and the winds 
would not send their fleecy messengers on errands around the heav- 
ens. The cold ether would not shed snow feathers on the earth, 
nor would drops of dew gather on the flowers. The kindly rain 
would never fall, nor hail, storm, nor fog, diversify the face of the sky. 

5. Our naked globe would turn its tanned and unshadowed fore- 
head towards the sun, and one dreary monotonous blaze of light 
and heat, dazzle and burn up all things. Were there no atmo- 
sphere, the evening sun would in a moment set, and, without warn- 
ing, plunge the earth in darkness. But the air keeps his rays, 
and lets them slip but slowly through her fingers ; so that the 
shadows of evening are gathered by degrees, and the flowers have 
time to bow their heads, and every creature space to find a place 
of rest, and to nestle to repose. 

6. In the morning, the sun would burst at one bound from the 
bosom of night, and blaze above the horizon ; but the air watches 
for his coming, and sends at first one little ray to announce his ap- 
proach, and then another, and by and by a handful, and so gently 
draws aside the curtain of night, and slowly lets the light fall on 
the face of the earth, till her eyelids open, and like a man, she go- 
eth forth again to her labors till the evening. 



168 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

LESSON LII. 

EDUCATION IN PRUSSIA. — R0CHE8TBB GEM. 

1. All parents, in Prussia, are bound by law to send their chil- 
dren to the public elementary schools, «»r to satisfy the authorities 
that their education is sufficiently provided for at home* This 
regulation i> of considerable antiquity; it was connrmed by Fred- 
erick the Great, ID 1 TOO, and was introduced into the Press i.m 
Landiecht, or code, in 1794, and finally it was adopted in the law 
of 1810, which forma the basis of the actual system of Prussia. 

2. The obligation in question extends not only to parents and 
guardians, but bo all persons who have power over children, such 
BS Manufacturers, and masters of apprentices, and applies to chil- 
dren of both sexes, from their seventh to their fourteenth year 
complete. Twice a year, the school committee and the munici- 
pal authorities make a list of the children in their district whose 
parents do not provide for their education, and require the attend- 
ance of all who are within the prescribed age. 

3. This attendance is dispensed with if satisfaction is given that 
the children will be properly instructed elsewhere ; but the parent! 
are nevertheless bound to contribute to the school to which their 
children would naturally belong. Lists of attendance, kept by the 
schoolmaster, are delivered every fortnight to the school committee. 

4. In order to facilitate the regular attendance of the children, 
and yet not altogether deprive the parents of their assistance, the 
hours of lessons in the elementary schools are arranged in such a 
manner as to leave the children, every day, some hours for domes- 
tic labors. The schoolmasters are prohibited by severe penalties 
from employing their scholars in household work. The schools 
are closed on Sundays ; but, the evenings, after divine service and 
the catechism, may be devoted to gymnastic exercises. 

5. Care is taken to enable poor parents to obey the law, by 
providing their children with books and clothes. " It is to be 
hoped, (says the law,) that facilities and assistance of this kind, the 
moral and religious influence of clergymen, and the good advice 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 169 

of members of the school committees and the municipal authori- 
ties, will cause the people gradually to appreciate the advantages 
of a good elementary education ;» and will infuse among young 
persons the desire of obtaining knowledge, which will lead them 
to seek it of their own accord." 

6. If. however, the parents omit to send their children to school, 
the clergyman is first to acquaint them with the importance of the 
duty which they neglect ; and, if his exhortation is not sufficient, 
the school committee may summon them, and remonstrate with 
them severely. The only excuses admitted are, a certificate of ill- 
ness by a medical man, the absence of the children with their pa- 
rents, or the want of clothes. 

7. If all remonstrances fail, the children may be taken to school 
by a policeman, or the parents, guardians, or masters, brought 
before the committee and fined, or imprisoned in default of pay- 
ment, or condemned to hard labor for the benefit of the commune. 
These punishments may be increased up to a certain limit for suc- 
cessive infractions of the law. 

8. Whenever the parents are condemned to imprisonment or 
hard labor, care is to be taken that their children are not aban- 
doned during the time of their punishment. Parents who neglect 
this duty to their children, are to lose all claim to pecuniary re- 
lief from the public, except the allowance for instruction, which, 
however, is not to pass through their hands. They are likewise 
declared incapable of filling any municipal office in their com- 
mune. 

9. If all punishments fail, a guardian is to be allotted to the 
children, and a co-guardian to wards, in order specially to watch 
over their education. Both Protestant and Roman Catholic min- 
isters are enjoined to exhort parents to send their children regularly 
to school ; and they are prohibited from admitting any children to 
their examinations for confirmation and communion, who do not 
produce certificates showing that they have finished their attend- 
ance at school, or that they still regularly attend it, or that they 
receive or have received a separate education. 

8 



170 COBB'S SPEAKER. 



LESSON LIIL 

A PILGRIMAGE TO THE CKADLE OF AMERICAN LIBERTV, WITH 

PEN AND PENCIL. BENSON J. LOSBINO's M PICTORIAL FIELD 

BOOK OF THE REVOLUTION." 

" How suddenly that straight and glittering shaft 
Shot 'thwart the earth ! in crown of living fire 
Up comes the day ! As if they conscious quaffed 
The sunny flood, hill, forest, city spire 
Laugh in the waking light." — Richard H. Dana. 

1. It was a glorious October morning, mild and brilliant, when 
I left Boston to visit Concord and Lexington. A gentle land- 
breeze during the night had borne the clouds back to their ocean 
birthplace, and not a trace of the storm was Left, except in the 
saturated earth. Health returned with the clear sky, and I felt a 
rejuvenescence in ever}'' vein and muscle when, at dawn, I strolled 
over the natural glory of Boston, its broad and beautiful ly-arbored 
Common. 

2. I breakfasted at six, and at half-past seven left the station 
of the Fitchburg Kail-way for Concord, seventeen miles northwest 
of Boston. The country through which the road passed is rough 
and broken, but thickly settled. I arrived at the Concord station, 
about half a mile from the centre of the village, before nine o'clock, 
and, procuring a conveyance, and an intelligent young man for a 
guide, proceeded at once to visit the localities of interest in the 
vicinity. 

3. We rode to the residence of Major James Barrett, a survi- 
ving grandson of Colonel Barrett, about two miles north of the 
village, and near the residence of his venerated ancestor. Major 
Barrett was eighty-seven years of age when I visited him ; and his 
wife, with whom he had lived nearly sixty years, was eighty. 
Like most of the few survivers of the Revolution, they were 
remarkable for their mental and bodily vigor. 

4. Both, I believe, still live. The old lady, a small, well-formed 
woman, was as sprightly as a girl of twenty, and moved about the 



COBB'S SPEAKER 171 

house with the nimbleness of foot of a matron in the prime of life. 
I was charmed with her vivacity, and the sunny radiance which 
it seemed to shed throughout her household ; and the half hour 
that I passed with that venerable couple, is a green spot in the 
memory. 

5. Major Barrett was a lad of fourteen when the British incur- 
sion into Concord took place. He was too young to bear a mus- 
ket, but, with every lad and woman in the vicinity, he labored in 
concealing the stores, and in making cartridges for those who went 
out to fight. With oxen and a cart, himself, and others about his 
age, removed the stores deposited at the house of his grandfather, 
into the woods, and concealed them, a cart-load in a place, under 
pine boughs. 

6. In such haste were they obliged to act on the approach of 
the British from Lexington, that, when the cart was loaded, lads 
would march on each side of the oxen, and goad them into a trot. 
Thus all the stores were effectually concealed, except some carriage- 
wheels. Perceiving the enemy near, these were cut up and 
burnt ; so that Parsons found nothing of value to destroy or carry 
away. 

V. From Major Barrett's we rode to the monument erected at 
the site of the old North Bridge, where the skirmish took place. 
The road crosses the Concord Eiver a little above the site of the 
North Bridge. The monument stands a few rods westward of 
the road leading to the village, and not far from the house of the 
Rev. Dr. Ripley, who gave the ground for the purpose. The 
monument is constructed of granite from Carlisle, and has an 
inscription upon a marble tablet inserted in the eastern face of the 
pedestal. 

8. The view is from the green shaded lane which leads from 
the highway to the monument, looking westward. The two trees 
standing, one upon each side, without the iron railing, were sap- 
lings at the time of the battle ; between them was the entrance to 
the bridge. The monument is reared upon a mound of earth, a 
few yards from the left bank of the river. A little to the left, two 
rough, uninscribed stones from the field, mark the graves of the 



172 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

two British soldiers who were killed and buried upon the noL 
AYe returned to the village .-it about noon, and started immediately 
fur Lexington, six miles eastward. 

lb Concord is a pleasant little village, including within its bor- 
ders about one hundred dwellings. It lies upon the Concord 
River, one of the chief tributaries of the Merrimac, near the junc- 
tion "t* the A— alp. ill and Sudbury Rivers. \\> Indian name was 
A£usketaquid. On account of the peaceable manner in which it 
was obtained, by purchase, of the aborigines, in 1685, it was 
named Concord. At the north end of the broad street, or com- 
mon, is the house of Colonel Daniel Shattuck, a part <>f which, 
built in 177 1, was use I a- our ( »t' the depositories of Btores when 
ih»- British invasion took place. It has been so much altered, 
that a view of it would have but little interesl as representing a 

relic of the past 

10. Tli-- road between Concord and Lexington i>a-s<-.> through 
a hilly l»ut fertile country. It is easy for the traveller to conceive 
how terribly a retreating army might be galled bj the lire of a 
concealed enemy. Hills and hillocks, some wooded, some hare, 
rise up everywhere, and formed natural breast-works of protection 
to the skirmishers that hung upon the flank and rear of Colonel 
Smith'.- troops. The road enters Lexington at the green whereon 
the old meeting-house stood when the battle occurred. 

11. The town is upon a line rolling plain, and is becoming 
almost a suburban residence for citizen- of Boston. Workmen 
were enclosing the green, and laying out the grounds in handsome 
plats around the monument, which stands a few yards from the 
street. It is upon a spacious mound; its material is granite, and 
it has a marble tablet on the south front of the pedestal, with a 
long inscription.* The design of the monument is not at all 

* The following is a copy of the inscription : 

"Sacred to the Liberty and the Rights of Mankind ! ! ! The Freedom 
and Independence of America; sealed and defended with the blood of her 
sons. This monument is erected by the Inhabitants of Lexington, under 
the patronage and at the expense of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, 
to the memory of their Fellow-citizen-:, Ensign Hubert Monroe. Mei-srs. 



COBB'S SPEAKEE. 173 

graceful ; and, being surrounded by tall trees, it has a very 
"dumpy n appearance. The people are dissatisfied with it, and 
doubtless, ere long, a more noble structure will mark the spot 
where the curtain of the revolutionary drama was first lifted. 

12. After making the drawings here given, I visited and made 
the sketch of " Clark's House." There I found a remarkably intel- 
ligent old lady, Mrs. Margaret Chandler, aged eighty-three years. 
She has been an occupant of the house, I believe, ever since the 
Revolution, and has a perfect recollection of the events of the 
period. Her version of the escape of Hancock and Adams is a 
little different from the published accounts. 

13. She says that on the evening of the 18th of April, 1*7 7 5, 
some British officers, who had been informed where these patriots 
were, came to Lexington, and inquired of a woman whom they 
met, for " Mr. Clark's house." She pointed to the parsonage ; but 
in a moment, suspecting their design, she called to them and in- 
quired if it was Clark's tavern that they were in search of. 

14. Uninformed whether it was a tavern or parsonage where 
their intended victims were staying, and supposing the former to 
be the most likely place, the officers replied, " Yes, Clark's tavern." 
" Oh," she said, " Clark's tavern is in that direction," pointing 
towards East Lexington. As soon as they departed, the woman 
hastened to inform the patriots of their danger, and they immediately 

Jonas Parker, Samuel Hadley, Jonathan Harrington, Jun., Isaac Muzzy, 
Calel» Harrington, and John Brown, of Lexington, and Asahel Porter, of 
Woburn, who fell on this Field, the first victims of the Sword of British 
Tyranny and Oppression, on the morning of the ever-memorable Nine- 
teenth of April, An. Dom. 1775. The Die was Cast!!! The blood of 
these Martyrs in the Cause of God and their Country was the Cement of 
the Union of these States, then Colonies, and gave the Spring to the 
Spirit, Firmness, and Resolution of their Fellow-citizens. They rose as 
one man to revenge their Brethren's blood, and at the point of the Sword 
to assert and defend their native Bights. They nobly dared to be Free ! ! ! 
The contest was long, bloody, and affecting. Righteous Heaven approved 
the Solemn Appeal ; Victory crowned their Arms, and the Peace, Liberty, 
and Independence of the United States of America was their glorious 
Reward. Built in the year 1799." 



174 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

arose and fled to Woburn. Dorothy Quincy, the intended wife 
of Hancock, who was at Mr. Clark's, accompanied them in their 
flight 

15. I next called upon the venerable Abijah Harrington, who 
was living in the village. IJ<^ was a lad of fourteen at the time 
of the engagement Two of hie brothers were among the minute 

men, but escaped unhurt. Jonathan and Caleb Harrington, near 
relatives, were killed. The former was shot in front of his own 
house, while his wife stood at the window in an agony of alarm. 
She aaw her husband fall, and then start up, the blood gwshing 
from his breast Hie stretched out his arms towards her, and then 
f. 11 again. Upon his hands and knees he crawled towards his 
dwelling, and expired just as his wife reached him. 

16. Caleb Harrington was shot while running from the meeting- 
house. My informant saw almost the whole of the battle, having 
been sent by his mother to go near enough, and be safe, to obtain 
and convey to her information respecting her other sons, who were 
with the minute men. His relation of the incidents of the morning 
was substantially such as history has recorded. He dwelt upon 
the subject with apparent delight, for his memory of the scenes of 
his early years, around which cluster so much of patriotism and 
glory, was clear and full. 

17. I would gladly have listened until twilight to the voice of 
such experience ; but, time was precious, and I hastened to East 
Lexington, to visit his cousin Jonathan Harrington, an old man of 
ninety who played the fife, when the minute men were marshalled 
on the green, upon that memorable April morning. He was 
splitting firewood in his yard with a vigorous hand when I rode 
up ; and, as he sat in his rocking-chair, while I sketched his placid 
features, he appeared no older than a man of seventy. 

18. His brother, aged eighty -eight, came in before my sketch 
was finished, and I could not but gaze with wonder upon these 
strong old men, children of one mother, who were almost grown 
to manhood when the first battle of our Revolution occurred ! 
Frugality and temperance, co-operating with industry, a cheerful 
temper, and a good constitution, have lengthened their days, and 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 175 

made their protracted years hopeful and happy. The aged fifer 
apologized for the rough appearance of his signature, which he 
kindly wrote for me, and charged the tremulous motion of his 
hand to his labor with the axe. How tenaciously we cling even 
to the appearance of vigor, when the whole frame is tottering to 
its fall ! 

19. Mr. Harrington opened the ball of the Revolution with the 
shrill war-notes of the fife, and then retired from the arena. He 
was not a soldier in the war, nor has his life, passed in the quietude 
of rural pursuits, been distinguished, except by the glorious acts 
which constitute the sum of the achievements of a good citizen. 



LESSON LIV. 



1. " Let not your heart be troubled," though deep within your 
soul, 
From the ocean of affliction, wave after wave may roll ; 
Though when each mighty billow, with its fearful weight is 



Around thy heart spray after spray, may linger to the last, 
u Let not your heart be troubled !" believe in God and Me ; 
Be not afraid : a peace I give, My peace I leave with thee. 

" Let not your heart be troubled," though the beautiful must 

die ; 
Though the form so loved and cherished, cold in the grave 

must lie ; 
" Let not your heart be troubled," for my Father's house is fair, 
And for you within its mansions a place I will prepare ! 
Then the ruby lip may fade away, the brilliant eye grow dim, 
While the spirit of the loved and lost may find a home with 

Him. 



176 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

3. " Let not your heart be troubled," though the world MKD eold 

to thee, 
Though the glances of affection, you never more may 
Remember, there is One od nigh, who counts each step yon 

take, 
And though the world should leave you, He never will fotake. 
u Let not your bearl be troubled," then, submit bul to Hii will, 
He'll never leave you comfortless, Be will be with you Mill. 

4. "Let not your bear! be troubled," when you bid the earth 

I by; 
When folded in the snow-white Bhroud, low in th<- grave you 

lie! 
Your bouI may pierce the pearly gates, the golden streets 

may tread, 
Joined to the band of harpers, though numbered with the 

ead. 
•• f. ; not your heart be troubled," then, the grave bul leads to 

bfe, 
And where I am. My ehosen ones for evermore may be. 



LESSON LV. 

THE GOODNESS OF CHUMTY. BIBLE. 

1. Though T speak with th< j tongues of men and of angels, and 
have not chanty, I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling 
cymbal. 

2. And (hough I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all 

mysteries, and all knowledge; and though I have all faith, so that 
I could remove mountains, and have not chanty. I am nothing. 

3. And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and 
though I give my body to be burnt, and have not charity, it profit* 
eth me nothing. 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 177 

4. Charity suffereth long, and is kind ; charity envieth not ; 
charity vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up, 

Doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not 
easily provoked, thinketh no evil ; 

5. Rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth; 
Beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, en- 

dureth all things. 

6. Charity never faileth : but whether there be prophecies, they 
shall fail ; whether there be tongues, they shall cease ; whether 
there be knowledge, it shall vanish away. 

7. For we know in part, and we prophesy in part ; 

But when that which is perfect is come, then that which is in 
part shall be done away. 

8. When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a 
child, I thought as a child ; but when I became a man, I put 
away childish things. 

9. For now we see through a glass, darkly ; but then face to 
face : now I know in part ; but then shall I know even as also I 
am known. 

10. And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three ; but the 
greatest of these is charity. 



LESSON LVI. 

GOVERNMENTS OF WILL, AND GOVERNMENTS OF LAW. WAYLAND. 

1. The various forms of government under which society has 
existed, may, with sufficient accuracy, be reduced to two ; govern- 
ments of will, and governments of law. 

2. A government of will supposes that there are created two 
classes of society, the rulers and the ruled, each possessed of dif- 
ferent and very dissimilar rights. It supposes all power to be vest- 
ed, by divine appointment, in the hands of the rulers ; that they 
alone may say under what form of governments the people shall 



178 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

live; that law g other than ai tlu-ir will ; 

and that it is the ordinance of heaven that such a const ituti on 

should continue un< ; the remoi : and that 

to all thk ,d implicit 

■ 

3. Thm -ngress of 9 bich has been - 

i Jl Alliance: " All useful and necessary changes ought only 
-will and intelligent co n viction of (bote, 
whom Yd are well aware, 

that on principles such as these rest most of the governments of 
continental Eur 

4. 1 nt of law re-ls on principles precisely th 
verse of all this. It supposes that ti. class of society, 
and that t: '■■: that all men ar..- created atraal, 
and, there! ivil in>titutions are voluntary a-vx.iati' 
which the sole object should be t<; promote the happiness of the 

have a | 
that form of governm I which they shall live, and to mod- 

ify it, at a: .all think desirable. 

5. Supposing all p :;i the people, it considers 
the authority of rulers purely a authority, to be 

in all cases ac- _ to a written cod is nothing 

more than an authentic e\ .ill. It teaches 

that the ruler is nothing more than the intelligent organ of en- 
lightened public opinion, and declares that, if he ceases to be so, 
he shall be a ruler no loi _ 

C. Under sneh a government may it with truth be said of Law, 
that - I - the bosom" of the people, " her voice the harmony" 

of society; "all men, in even- station, do her reverence; the v>-ry 
lea-t as feeling her care, and the very great I exempted 

from her power ; and, though each in different sort and manner, 
yet all with uniform consent, admiring her as the mother of their 
peace and joy." I need not add, that our own Is an illustrio- 
ample of the government of law. 

7. Blow which of these two is the right notion of government, 
I need not stay to inquire. It is sufficient for my purpose to re- 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 179 

mark, that, whenever men have become enlightened by the gen- 
eral diffusion of intelligence, they have universally preferred the 
government of law. The doctrines of what has been called legiti- 
macy have not been found to stand the scrutiny of unrestrained 
examination. And, besides this, the love of power is as insepara- 
ble from the human bosom as the love of life. 

8. Hence, men will never rest satisfied with any civil institu- 
tions, which confer exclusively upon a part of society that power, 
which they believe should justly be vested in the whole ; and hence 
it is evident, that no government can be secure from the effects of 
increasing intelligence, which is not conformed in its principles to 
the nature of the human heart, and which does n~t provide for 
the exercise of this principle, so inseparable from the nature of 
man. 



LESSON LVII. 

THE NATIONAL CHARACTER. GENERAL HAYNE. SOUTHERN 

REVIEW. 

1. It is due to the country, that not a single trophy of the rev- 
olution should be suffered to be destroyed ; and, we should be 
sorry to see recorded on one of them, the memorable inscription 
on the beautiful naval monument in Washington, " mutilated by 
Britons." We would, if we could, preserve them all, in their sim- 
ple majesty and beauty, to kindle in the bosom of our American 
youth, to the latest posterity, the sacred glow of patriotism. We 
have always considered the moral and political lessons, taught by 
the history of the revolution, as the most precious inheritance de- 
rived from our fathers. 

2. The exploits of our heroes, the wisdom of our statesmen, con- 
stitute a portion of our national wealth, which, we had fondly 
hoped, would have withstood the assaults of time itself. If we 
were called upon to decide by what measures those who live in 
the present age could confer the greatest blessings on posterity, 



180 conn's SPEAK E& 

we sh >uld Bay, without hesitation, by leaving behind them those 
great examples of wisdom and of virtue, which are the moat endu- 
ring monuments of national greatness. 

3. To the youth of any country, and especially of a free country , 
what incentive to noble actions can be offered, equal to the exam- 
ples of the poets, orators, statesmen, and warriors, who have im- 
mortalized the country which gave them birth, and adorned the 
age in which they lived It is not, therefore, without feelm 
mortification and regret, thai we have witnessed, of late years, re- 
peated attempts to Btrip from American history some of the most 
brilliant trophies of the revolution. 

i. It may 1"' true, that our history, like all others, is u of a 
mingled yam of truth and falsehood ;'* but, we fear that any per- 
son who employs him-. -If. at this day, in picking out the threads, 
will impair the beauty, if 1m- does do1 destroy the strength of the 
fabric. I; is too late now, to make a fresh distribution of the hon- 
ors awarded by their cotemporaries to the worthies of the revolution. 

5. The partners of their toils (he very witnesses of their ex- 
ploits, are slumbering in the dust; and, we may be assured, that, 
if with th<' feeble and glimmering lights we now possess, we at- 
tempt to correct the supposed errors in our revolutionary history, 
we shall leave it much more imperfect than we found it. 

6. Let all Americans, therefore, unite in guarding the fair fame 
of tin- patriots and sages, whose names are embalmed in our his- 
tory, as we would guard tin- bones of our fathers. Let the chap- 
let which o-ratitude has bound around their brows, be as enduring 
as the blessings we owe to their exertions. 



LESSON LVIIL 



THE COUNTRY CHURCH. IRVING. 



1. I was as yet a stranger in England, and curious to notice the 
manners of its fashionable classes. I found, as usual, that there 
was the least pretension where there was the most acknowledged 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 181 

title to respect. I was particularly struck, for instance, with the 
family of a nobleman of high rank, consisting of several sons and 
daughters. Nothing could be more simple and unassuming than 
their appearance. They generally came to church in the plainest 
equipage, and often on foot. 

2. The young ladies would stop and converse in the kindest 
manner with the peasantry, caress the children, and listen to the 
stories of the humble cottagers. Their countenances were open 
and beautifully fair, with an expression of high refinement, but, at 
the same time, a frank cheerfulness, and an engaging affability. 
Their brothers were tall, and elegantly formed. They were dressed 
fashionably, but simply ; with strict neatness and propriety, but 
without any mannerism or foppishness. Their whole demeanor 
was easy and natural, with that lofty grace, and noble frankness, 
which bespeak free-born souls that have never been checked in 
their growth by feelings of inferiority. 

3. There is a healthful hardiness about real dignity, that never 
dreads contact and communion with others, however humble. It 
is only spurious pride that is morbid and sensitive, and shrinks 
from every touch. I was pleased to see the manner in which they 
would converse with the peasantry about those rural concerns and 
field-sports, in which the gentlemen of this country so much 
delight. In these conversations there was neither haughtiness on 
the one part, nor servility on the other ; and you were only re- 
minded of the difference of rank by the habitual respect of the 
peasant. 

4. In contrast to these was the family of a wealthy citizen, 
who had amassed a vast fortune ; and, having purchased the 
estate and mansion of a ruined nobleman in the neighborhood, 
was endeavoring to assume all the style and dignity of an heredi- 
tary lord of the soil. The family always came to church en prince. 
They were rolled majestically along in a carriage emblazoned with 
arms. The crest glittered in silver radiance from every part of the 
harness where a crest could possibly be placed. 

5. A fat coachman, in a three-cornered hat, richly laced, and a 
flaxen wig, curling close around his rosy face, was seated on the 



182 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

box, with a sleek Danish dog beside him. Two footmen, in 
gorgeous liveries, with huge boquets, and gold-headed canes, lolled 
behind. The carriage rose and sunk on its long springs with 
peculiar stateliness of motion. The very horses champed their 
bits, arched their necks, and glanced their eyes more proudly than 
common horses ; either because they had caught a little of the 
family feeling, or were reined up more tightly than ordinary. 

G. I could not but admire the style with which this splendid 
pageant was brought up to the gate of the chnreh-yard. There 
was a vast effect produced at the turning of an angle of the wall ; 
a great smacking of the whin, Btraining and scrambling of 
horses, glistening of harness, and flashing of wheels through gravel. 
This was the moment of triumph and vain-glory to the coachman. 
The horses were urged and checked until they were betted into a 
foam. They threw out their feet in a prancing trot, dashing out 
pebbles at every step. The crowd of villagers sauntering quietly 
to church, opened precipitately to the right and left, gaping in 
vacant admiration. On reaching the gate, the horses were pulled 
up with a suddenness that produced an immediate stop, and almost 
threw them on their haunches. 

V. There was an extraordinary hurry of the footman to alight, 
pull down the steps, and prepare every thing for the descent on 
earth of this august family. The old citizen first emerged his round, 
red face out of the door, looking about him with the pompous air of 
a man accustomed to rule on 'Change, and shake the Stock Market 
with a nod. 

8. His consort, a fine, fleshy, comfortable dame, followed him. 
There seemed, I must confess, but little pride in her composition. 
She was the picture of broad, honest, vulgar enjoyment. The 
world went well with her ; and she liked the world. She had 
fine clothes, a fine house, a fine carriage, fine children, every thing 
was fine about her : it was nothing but driving about ; and visiting 
and feasting. Life was to her a perpetual revel ; it was one long 
Lord Mayor's day. 

9. Two daughters succeeded to this goodly couple. They cer- 
tainly were handsome, but had a supercilious air, that chilled 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 183 

admiration, and disposed the spectator to be critical. They were 
ultra fashionable in dress; and, though no one could deny the 
richness of then* decorations, yet their appropriateness might be 
questioned amidst the simplicity of a country church. They de- 
scended loftily from the carriage, and moved up the line of 
peasantry with a step that seemed dainty of the soil it trod on. 
They cast an excursive glance around, that passed coldly over the 
burly faces of the peasantry, until they met the eyes of the noble- 
man's family, when their countenances immediately brightened 
into smiles, and they made the most profound and elegant courtesies, 
which were returned in a manner that showed they were but 
slight acquaintances. 

10. I must not forget the two sons of this aspiring citizen, who 
came to church in a dashing curricle, with out-riders. They were 
arrayed in the extremity of the mode, with all that pedantry of 
dress which marks the man of questionable pretensions to style. 
They kept entirely by themselves, eying every one askance that 
came near them, as if measuring his claims to respectability ; yet 
they were without conversation, except the exchange' of an occa- 
sional cant phrase. They even moved artificially ; for their bodies, 
in compliance with the caprice of the day, had been disciplined 
into the absence of all ease and freedom. Art had done every 
thing to accomplish them as men of fashion, but nature had de- 
nied them the nameless grace. They were vulgarly shaped, like 
men formed for the common purposes of life, and had that air of 
supercilious assumption which is never seen in the true gentleman. 

11. I have been rather minute in drawing the pictures of these 
two families, because I considered them specimens of what is often 
to be met with in this country ; the unpretending great, and the 
arrogant little. I have no respect for titled rank, unless it be ac- 
companied with true nobility of soul ; but I have remarked in all 
countries where artificial distinctions exist, that the very highest 
classes are always the most courteous^ and unassuming. Those 
who are well- assured of their own standing are least apt to tres- 
pass on that of others : whereas, nothing is so offensive as the as- 



184 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

pirings of vulgarity, which thinks to elevate itself by humiliating 
its neighbor. 

12. As 1 have brought these families into contrast, I most no- 
tice their behavior in church. That of the nobleman's family was 
quiet, serious, and attentive. Not thai they appeared to have any 
fervor of devotion, but rather a reaped for sacred things, and sa- 
cred places, inseparable from good breeding. The others, on the 
contrary, were in a perpetual flutter and whisper. They betrayed 
a continual consciousness of finery, and a sorry ambition of being 
the wonders of a rural congregation. 

13. The old gentleman was the only one really attentive to the 
service Be took the whole burden of family devotion upon him- 
self, standing bolt upright, and uttering the responses with a bud 
voice that might be heard all over the church. It was evident 
that he was one of those thorough church and king men, who 
connect the idea of devotion and loyalty; who consider the Deity, 
somehow or other, of the government party, and religion "a 
very excellent sort of thin--, that ought to bo countenanced and 
kept ii]'/' 

14. When he joined so loudly in the service, it seemed more 
by way of example to the lower orders, to show them that, though 
bo great and wealthy, he was not above being religious; as I have 
seen a turtle-fed alderman swallow publicly a basin of charity soup, 
smacking his lips at every mouthful, and pronouncing it "excel- 
lent food for the poor." 

15. When the service was at an end, I was curious to witness 
the several exits of my groups. The young noblemen and their 
sisters, as the day was fine, preferred strolling home across the 
fields, chatting with the country people as they went. The others 
departed as they came ; in grand parade. Again were the equi- 
pages wheeled up to the gate. There was again the smacking of 
whips, the clattering of hoofs, and the glittering of harness. The 
horses started. off almost at a bound; the villagers again hurried 
to right and left; the wheels threw up a cloud of dust, and the 
aspiring family was rapt out of sight in a whirlwind. 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 185 

LESSON LIX. 

THE HOUR OF DEATH. MRS. HEMANS. 

1. Leaves have their time to fall, 

And flowers to wither at the north wind's breath, 

And stars to set ; but all, 
Thou hast all seasons for thine own, O Death ! 

2. Day is for mortal care, 

Eve for glad meetings round the joyous hearth, 

Night for the dreams of sleep, the voice of prayer ; 
But all for thee, thou mightiest of the earth ! 

3. Youth and the opening rose 

May look like things too glorious for decay, 

And smile at thee ; but thou art not of those 
That wait the ripened bloom to seize their prey ! 

4. We know when moons shall wane, 

When summer-birds from far shall cross the sea, 

When autumn's hue shall tinge the golden grain ; 
But who shall teach us when to look for thee ? 

5. Is it when spring's first gale 

Comes forth to whisper where the violets lie ? 

Is it when roses in our paths grow pale \ 
They have one season ; all are ours to die ! 

6. Thou art where billows foam ; 

Thou art where music melts upon the air ; 

Thou art around us in our peaceful home ; 
And the world calls us forth, and thou art there ; 

1. Thou art where friend meets friend, 
Beneath the shadow of the elm to rest ; 

Thou art where foe meets foe, and trumpets rend 
The skies, and swords beat down the princely crest ! 



186 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

LESSON LX. 

CHARACTER OF THE PURITANS. MACAULAY. 

1. The Puritans WOW men whose minds had derived I peculiar 
character from the daily contemplation of superior being! and eter- 
nal interests. Not content with acknowledging, in genera] terms, 
an overruling Providence, they habitually ascribed every event to 
the will of the Great Being, for whose power nothing was too mat, 
for whose inspection nothing was too minute. To know him, to 
serve him, to enjoy him, was with them the great end of existence. 
They rejected with contempt the ceremonious homage which other 
sects substituted for the pure worship of the soul. 

2. Instead of catching occasional glimpses of the Deity through 
an obscuring veil, they aspired to gaze full on the intolerable 
brightness, and to commune with him face to face. Hence origi- 
nated their contempt for terrestrial distinctions. The dinvrence be- 
I w. ii the greatest and meanest of mankind seemed to vanish, when 
compared with the boundless interval which separated the whole 
race from him on whom their own eyes were constantly fixed. 
They recognised no title to superiority but his favor; and, confi- 
dent of that favor, they despised all the accomplishments and all 
the dignities of the world. 

3. If they were unacquainted with the works of philosophers 
and poets, they were deeply read in the oracles of God. If their 
names were not found in the registers of heralds, they felt assured 
that they were recorded in the Book of Life. If their steps were 
not accompanied by a splendid train of menials, legions of minis- 
tering angels had charge over them. Their palaces were houses 
not made with hands : their diadems crowns of glory which should 
never fade away ! On the rich and the eloquent, on nobles and 
priests, they looked down with contempt ; for they esteemed them- 
selves rich in a more precious treasure, and eloquent in a more 
sublime language ; nobles by the right of an earlier creation, and 
priests by the imposition of a mightier hand. 

4. The very meanest of them was a being to whose fate a myste- 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 187 

rious and terrible importance belonged ; on whose slightest action 
the spirits of light and darkness looked with anxious interest ; who 
had been destined, before heaven and earth were created, to enjoy 
a felicity which should continue when heaven and earth should 
have passed away. Events which short-sighted politicians ascribed 
to earthly causes had been ordained on his account. For his sake 
empires had risen, and flourished and decayed. 

5. For his sake the Almighty had proclaimed his will by the 
pen of the evangelist, and the harp of the prophet. He had been 
rescued by no common deliverer, from the grasp of no common 
foe. He had been ransomed by the sweat of no vulgar agony, by 
the blood of no earthly sacrifice. It was for him that the sun had 
been darkened, that the rocks had been rent, that the dead had 
arisen, that all nature had shuddered at the sufferings of her ex- 
piring God ! 

6. Thus the Puritan was made up of two different men ; the one, 
all self-abasement, penitence, gratitude, passion ; the other, proud, 
calm, inflexible, sagacious. He prostrated himself in the dust be- 
fore his Maker ; but he set his foot on the neck of his king. In 
his devotional retirement, he prayed with convulsions, and groans, 
and tears. He was half maddened by glorious or terrible illusions. 
He heard the lyres of angels, or the tempting whispers of fiends. 
He caught a gleam of the Beatific Vision, or awoke screaming 
from dreams of everlasting fire. 

7. Like Yane, he thought himself intrusted with the sceptre of 
the millennial year. Like Fleetwood, he cried in the bitterness of 
his soul that God had hid his face from him. But, when he took 
his seat in the council, or girt on his sword for war, these tempes- 
tuous workings of the soul had left no perceptible trace behind 
them. People who saw nothing of the godly but their uncouth 
visages, and heard nothing from them but their groans and their 
whining hymns, might laugh at them. But those had little reason 
to laugh, who encountered them in the hall of debate, or in the 
field of battle. 

8. The Puritans brought to civil and military affairs a coolness 
of judgment, and an immutability of purpose, which some writers 



188 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

have thought inconsistent with their religious zeal, but which were, 
in fact, the necessary effects of it. The intensity of their feelings 
on one subject made them tranquil on every other. One over- 
powering sentiment had subjected to itself pity and hatred, ambi- 
tion and fear. Death had Lost its terrors, and pleasure its charms. 
They had their smiles and their tears, their raptures and their sor- 
rows, but n< .t for the things of this world 

'.i. Enthusiasm had made them stoics, had cleared their minds 
from every vulgar passion and prejudice, and raised then above 
the influence of danger and of corruption. It sometimes might 

lead them to pursue IWwise ends, but never to choose unwise 

means. They went through the world like sir Artegale'i iron 
man Talus with his flail, crushing and trampling down oppr 
mingling with human beings, but having neither part nor lot in 
human infirmities; insensible to fatigue, to pleasure, and to pain; 
ami not to be pierced by any weapon, not to be withstood by any 
barrier. 

10. Such we believe to have been the character of the Puritans. 
We perceive the absurdity of their manners. We di>like the sul- 
len -loom of their domestic habits. We acknowledge that the 
tone of their minds was often injured by straining after things too 
high for mortal reach. 



LESSON LXI. 



EXTRACT FROM THE NARRATIVE OF THE EXPLORING EXPEDITION 
TO THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS. CAPT. FREMONT. 

1. Dec. 14. Our road was over a broad mountain, and we 
rode seven hours in a thick snow-storm, always through pine 
forests, when we came down upon the head waters of another 
stream, on which there was grass. The snow lay deep on the 
ground, and only the high swamp grass appeared above. The 
Indians were thinly clad, and I had remarked during the day that 
they suffered from the cold. 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 189 

2. This evening, they told me that the snow was getting too 
deep on the mountain, and I could not induce them to go any 
farther. The stream we had struck issued from the mountain in 
an easterly direction, turning to the southward a short distance 
below ; and, drawing its course upon the ground, they made us 
comprehend that it pursued its way for a. long distance in that 
direction, uniting with many other streams, and gradually be- 
coming a great river. 

3. Without the subsequent information, which confirmed the 
opinion, we became immediately satisfied that this water formed 
the principal stream of the Sacramento river ; and, consequently, 
that this main affluent of the bay of San Francisco had its source 
within the limits of the United States, and opposite a tributary to 
the Columbia, and near the head of the Tlamath river ; which goes 
to the ocean north of 42°, and within the United States. 

4. Dec. 15. A present, consisting of useful goods, afforded 
much satisfaction to our guides ; and, showing them the national 
flag, I explained that it was a symbol of our nation ; and they 
engaged always to receive it in a friendly manner. The chief 
pointed out a course, by following which we would arrive at the 
bio- water, where no more snow was to be found. Travelling in a 
direction, IS". 60° E. by compass, which the Indians informed me 
would avoid a bad mountain to the right, we crossed the Sacra- 
mento where it turned to the southward, and entered a grassy 
level plain ; a smaller Grand Rond ; from the lower end of which 
the river issued into an inviting country of low rolling hills. 

5. Crossing a hard-frozen swamp on the farther side of the 
Rond, we entered again the pine forest, in which very deep snow 
made our travelling slow and laborious. We were slowly but 
gradually ascending a mountain ; and, after a hard journey of 
seven hours, we came to some naked places among the timber, 
where a few tufts of grass showed above the snow, on the side of 
a hollow ; and here we encamped. Our cow, which every day 
became poorer, was killed here, but the meat was rather tough. 

6. Dec. 16. We travelled, this morning, through snow about 
three feet deep, which, being crusted, very much cut the feet of 



190 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

our animals. The mountain still gradually rose ; we ci 
several spring-heads covered with quaking asp ; otherwise it was 
all pine forest. The air was dark with falling snow, which every- 
where weighed down the trees. The depths of the forest were 
profoundly still; and below, we scarcely felt a breath of the wind 
which whirled the snow through their branches. 

7. I found that it required some exertion of constancy to adhere 
steadily to one course through the woods, when we were uncertain 
how for the forest extended, or what lay beyond ; and, on account 
of our animals, it would be bad to spend another night on the 
mountain. Towards noon the forest looked clear ahead, appear- 
ing suddenly to terminate; and, beyond a certain point we could 
see no trees. 

8. Riding rapidly ahead to this spot, we found onnelret on the 
verge of a vertical and rocky wall of the mountain. At our feet, 
more than a thousand feet below, we looked into a green prairie 
country, in which a beautiful lake, some twenty miles in length, 
was spread along the foot of the mountains, its shores bordered 
with green grass. Just then the sun broke out among the clouds, 
and illuminated the country below, while around us the storm raged 
fiercely. 

9. Not a particle of ice was to be seen on the lake, or snow on 
its borders, and all was like summer or spring. The glow of the 
sun in the valley below brightened up our hearts with sudden 
pleasure ; and we made the woods ring with joyful shouts to those 
behind ; and gradually, as each came up, he stopped to enjoy the 
unexpected scene. Shivering on snow three feet deep, and stiffen- 
ing in a cold north wind, we exclaimed at once that the names of 
Summer Lake and Winter Ridge should be applied to these two 
proximate places of such sudden and violent contrast. 

10. We were now immediately on the verge of the forest land, 
in which we had been travelling so many days ; and, looking for- 
ward to the east, scarce a tree was to be seen. Viewed from our 
elevation, the face of the country exhibited only rocks and grass, 
and presented a region in which the artemisia became the princi- 
pal wood, furnishing to its scattered inhabitants fuel for their fires, 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 191 

building material for their huts, and shelter for the small game 
which ministers to their hunger and nakedness. 

11. Broadly marked by the boundary of the mountain-wall, 
and immediately below us, were the first waters of that Great in- 
terior Basin which has the Wahsatch and Bear river mountains 
for its eastern, Sierra Nevada for its western rim ; and the edge 
of which we had entered upwards of three months before, at the 
Great Salt lake. 

12. When we had sufficiently admired the scene below, we 
began to think about descending, which here was impossible, and 
we turned towards the north, travelling always along the rocky 
wall. We continued on for four or five miles, making ineffectual 
attempts at several places ; and at length, succeeded in getting 
down at one which was extremely difficult of descent. 

13. Night had closed in before the foremost reached the bot- 
tom ; and, it was dark before we all found ourselves together in 
the valley. There were three or four half dead, dry cedar-trees on 
the shore, and those who first arrived kindled bright fires to light 
on the others. One of the mules rolled over and over two or 
three hundred feet into a ravine, but recovered himself, without 
any other injury than to his pack ; and, the howitzer was left 
mid-way the mountain until morning. By observation, the lati- 
tude of this encampment is 42° 51 ' 22". 

14. It delayed us until near noon the next day to recover our- 
selves and put every thing in order ; and, we made only a short 
camp along the western shore of the lake, which, in the summer 
temperature we enjoyed to-day, justified the name we had given 
it. Our course would have taken us to the other shore, and over 
the highlands beyond ; but, I distrusted the appearance of the 
country, and decided to follow a plainly beaten Indian trail lead- 
ing along this side of the lake. We were now in a country where 
the scarcity of water and of grass makes travelling dangerous, and 
great caution was necessary. 



192 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

LESSON LX II. 

BRAIN WORE A.ND HAND WORK. — CHABU 

1. In ;i garret cold and dreary 

Sat a laborer deep in thought, 
And hi- brow looked worn and weary, 

A- though hardly In- had wrought; 
And I watched liis throbbing brain. 

Like a wild bird t<> !>•• free, 
(Struggling to fly back again 

To ii liberty ; 

And the muscles and the fibres, 

And the flesh upon the bone, 
Like a ma-- of burning embers 

Self-consumingly they shone. 

2. And 1 turned my vision backward 

To ili.' ncenes of other d 
AYliil.- the Bword within the scabbard 
Of tb«- mind yet feebly lays ; 

Ere tip' boy, grown into manhood, 
Felt tip- cravings of his soul, 

Ere keen hunger shivering stood 
On his threshold crying fool/ 

For the midnight oil he'd wasted 
Scanning books o'er page by page, 

For neglect of luxuries tasted 
In this money-making age. 

3. And I saw an infant sleeping, 

Softly pillowed by the side 
Of a widowed mother weeping, 

Fearing death might take its guide, 
And to stranger hands and cold 

Leave the darling of her heart ; 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 193 

To the swearer ; to the scold ; 

'Mid the rocks without a chart ; 
God of mercy ! help the helpless, 

Teach them how to earn their bread ; 
Oh ! to trust alone, 'tis madness, 

To the labor of the head. 

4. By the willing arm that fails not, 

By the workings of the hand, 
In this free and hallowed spot, 

In this great and mighty land, 
Where before us rivers deep, 

Forests wide and mountains high, 
Where, beneath the rocky steep, 

Treasures all exhaustless lie ; 
By a will of stern resolve, 

Making all things own his sway, 
Man may thus the mystery solve 

How to live ; while live he may. 

5. Not to fling away existence, 

Toiling early, toiling late, 
Not to succumb for subsistence, 

Calling penury your fate. 
Brain alone will not support thee, 

Trace the history of the past ; 
Study well and study deeply, 

You will find the truth at last. 
Brain and Hand and Hand and Brain, 

Let each urge the other on, 
And, the dollars shall again 

Reward thee when thy work is done. 
9 



194 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

LESSON LXIII. 

WASHINGTON IN RETIREMENT. SPARKS. 

1. No part of Washington's career commands more admiration 
than his private life, after he bad retired from the Presidency of 
the United States. Having served his country as a soldier and a 
chief magistrate, lie had yet something to do : to set a great and 
noble example in the rarrender of power and personal ambition. 

2. The following passages will show, that in this, as in every 
thing else, he seems to be superior to almost all other men. 
Being established again at Mount Vernon, and freed from public 
toils and cares, Washington returned to the same habits of life 
and the same pursuits, which he had always practised at that 
place. 

3. In writing to a friend, a few weeks after his return, he said, 
that he began his daily course with the rising of the sun, and first 
made preparations for the business of the day. "By the time I 
have accomplished these matters," he adds, " breakfast is ready. 
This being over, I mount my horse and ride around my farms, 
which employs me until it is time to dress for dinner, at which I 
rarely miss seeing strange faces, come, as they say, out of respect 
for me. 

4. ' ; The usual time of sitting at table, a walk and tea, bring 
me within the dawn of candlelight ; previous to which, if not pre- 
vented by company, I resolve, that as soon as the glimmering 
taper supplies the place of the great luminary, I will retire to my 
writing-table, and acknowledge the letters I have received. Having 
given you this history of a day, it will serve for a year." 

5. And in this manner a year passed away, and with no other 
variety than that of the change of visiters, who came from all 
parts, to pay their respects, or gratify their curiosity. The feelings 
of Washington on being relieved from the solicitude and burdens 
of office, were forcibly expressed in letters to his friends. 

6. " At length," said he, in writing to Lafayette, " I am become 
a private citizen, on the banks of the Potomac ; and, under the 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 195 

shadow of my own vine and fig-tree, free from the bustle of a 
camp, and the busy scenes of public life, I am solacing myself 
with those tranquil enjoyments, of which the soldier, who is ever 
in pursuit of fame, the statesman, whose watchful days and sleep- 
less nights are spent in devising schemes to promote the welfare 
of his own, perhaps the ruin of other countries, as if this globe was 
insufficient for us all, and the courtier, who is always watching the 
countenance of his prince, in hopes of catching a gracious smile, 
can have very little conception. 

1. " I have not only retired from all public employments, but I 
am retiring within myself, and shall be able to view the solitary 
walk, and tread the paths of private life, with heart-felt satisfaction. 
Envious of none, I am determined to be pleased with all ; and this, 
my dear friend, being the order of my march, I will move gently 
down the stream of life, until I sleep with my fathers." 



THE GRAVE OF WASHINGTON. 

1. Disturb not his slumber, let "Washington sleep, 
'Neath the boughs of the willow that over him weep ; 
His arm is unnerved, but his deeds remain bright 

As the stars in the dark vaulted heaven at night. 

2. Oh ! wake not the hero, his battles are o'er, 

Let him rest undisturbed on Potomac's fair shore ; 

On the river's green border as flowery dressed, 

With the hearts he loved fondly, let Washington rest. 

3. Awake not his slumbers, tread lightly around, 
'Tis the grave of a freeman, 'tis liberty's mound ; 
The name is immortal ; our freedom is won ; 
Brave sire of Columbia, our own Washington. 

4. Oh ! wake not the hero, his battles are o'er, 

Let him rest, calmly rest, on his dear native shore ; 
While the stars and the stripes of our country shall wave, 
O'er the land that can boast of a Washington's Grave. 



196 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

LESSON LXIV. 

THE FORMER AND PRESENT CONDITION OF THE STATE OF NEW 
YORK. BANCROFT. 

1. Sombre forests shed a melancholy grandeur over the m 
magnificence of nature, and hid in their deep shades the rich soil 
which the sun had never warmed. No axe bad levelled the giant 
progeny of the crowded groves, in which the fantastic forms of 
withered limbs, thai had been blasted and riven by lightning, con- 
trasted Btrangely with the verdant freshness of a younger growth 
of branches. 

2. The wanton grape-vine, seeming by its own power to have 
sprung from the earth, and to haw fastened it- leafy colli on the 
top of the tallest forest-tree, swung in the air with every breeze, 
like the loosened shrouds of a ship. Trees might every where be 
seen breaking from their root in the marshy soil, and threatening 
to fall with the first rude gust ; while the ground was strown with 
the ruins of former forests, over which a profusion of wild flowers 
wasted their freshness in mockery of the gloom. 

3. Reptiles sported in the stagnant pools, or crawled unharmed 
over piles of mouldering trees. The spotted deer crouched among 
the thickets ; but not to hide, for there was no pursuer ; and, there 
were none but wild animals to crop the uncut herbage of the pro- 
ductive prairies. Silence reigned, broken, it may have been, by 
the flight of land-birds or the flapping of water-fowls, and rendered 
more dismal by the howl of beasts of prey. 

4. The streams, not yet limited to a channel, spread over sand- 
bars, tufted with copses of willow r , or waded through wastes of 
reeds. The smaller brooks spread out into sedgy swamps that 
were overhung by clouds of moschetoes ; masses of decaying vege- 
tation fed the exhalations with the seeds of pestilence, and made 
the balmy air of the summer's evening as deadly as it seemed 
grateful. Vegetable life and death were mingled hideously to- 
gether. The horrors of corruption frowned on the fruitless fertility 
of uncultivated nature. 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 197 

5. And man, the occupant of the soil, was wild as the savage 
scene, in harmony with the rude nature by which he was sur- 
rounded ; a vagrant over the continent, in constant warfare with 
his fellow-man ; the bark of the birch his canoe ; strings of shells 
his ornaments, his record, and his coin ; the roots of the forest 
among his resources for food ; his knowledge in architecture sur- 
passed both in strength and durability by the skill of the beaver ; 
drifts of forest-leaves his couch ; mats of bulrushes his protection 
against the winter's cold ; his religion the adoration of nature ; his 
morals the promptings of undisciplined instinct ; disputing with 
the wolves and bears the lordship of the soil, and dividing with 
the squirrel the wild fruits, with which the universal woodland 
abounded. 

6. How changed is the scene from that on which Hudson gazed ! 
The earth glows with the colors of civilization ; the banks of the 
streams are enamelled with richest grasses ; woodlands -and culti- 
vated fields are harmoniously blended ; the birds of spring find 
their delight in orchards and gardens, variegated with choicest 
plants from every temperate zone ; while the brilliant flowers of the 
tropics bloom from the windows of the green-house and the saloon. 

7. The yeoman, living like a good neighbor near the fields he 
cultivates, glories in the fruitfulness of the valleys, and counts with 
honest exultation the flocks and herds that graze in safety on the 
hills. The thorn has given way to the rose-bush ; the cultivated 
vine clambers over rocks where the brood of serpents used to nes- 
tle ; while industry smiles at the changes she has wrought, and 
inhales the bland air which now has health on its wings. 

8. Man is still in harmony with nature, which he has subdued, 
cultivated, and adorned. For him the rivers that flow to the re- 
motest climes, mingle their waters ; for him the lakes gain new 
outlets to the ocean ; for him the arch spans the flood, and science 
spreads iron pathways to the recent wilderness ; for him the hills 
yield, up the shining marble and the enduring granite ; for him 
the forests of the interior come down in immense rafts ; for him 
the marts of the city gather the produce of every clime, and libra- 
ries collect the works of genius of every language and every age. 



19S COBB'S SPEAK K K. 

9. The passions of society arc chastened into purity ; manners 
are made benevolent by civilization ; and the virtue of the country 
is the guardian of its peace. An active daily press, vigilant from 
party interests, free even to dissoluteness, watches the progress of 
society, and communicates every fact that can interest humanity ; 
the genius of letters begins to unfold his powers in the warm sun- 
shine of public favor. And while idle curiosity may take its walk 
in shady avenues by the ocean side, commerce pushes its wharves 
into the sea, blocks up the wide rivers with its fleets, and, sending 
its ships, the pride of naval architecture, to every clime, defies 
every wind, outrides every tempest, and invades every zone. 



LESSON LXV. 



EXTRACT FROM A FUNERAL ORATION ON THE DEATH OF GENERAL 
WASHINGTON. REV. DR. J. M. MA80N. 

1. It must ever be difficult to compare the merits of Washing- 
ton's characters, because he always appeared greatest in that which 
he last sustained. Yet if there is a preference, it must be assigned 
to the Lieutenant General of the armies of America. Not because 
the duties of that station were more arduous than those which he 
had often performed, but because it more fully displayed his mag- 
nanimity. While others become great by elevation, Washington 
becomes greater by condescension. 

2. Matchless patriot ! to stoop, on public motives, to an inferior 
appointment, after possessing and dignifying the highest offices ! 
Thrice-favored country, which boasts of such a citizen ! We gaze 
with astonishment ; we exult that we are Americans. We augur 
every thing great, and good, and happy. 

3. But whence this sudden horror ? What means that cry of 
agony ? Oh ! 'tis the shriek of America ! The fairy vision is 
fled : Washington is no more ! <: How are the mighty fallen, 
and the weapons of war perished !" Daughters of America, who 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 199 

erst prepared the festal bower and the laurel wreath, plant now 
the cypress-grove, and water it with tears. " How are the mighty 
fallen, and the weapons of war perished !" 

4. The death of Washington, Americans, has revealed the 
extent of' our loss. It has given us the final proof that we never 
mistook him. Take his affecting testament, and read the secrets 
of his soul. Read all the power of domestic virtue. Read his 
strong love of letters and of liberty. Read his fidelity to republi- 
can principle, and his jealousy of national character. Read his 
devotedness to you in his military bequests to near relatives. 
" These swords," they are the words of Washington, " these swords 
are accompanied with an injunction not to unsheath them for the 
purpose of shedding blood, except it be for self-defence, or in de- 
fence of their country and its rights ; and, in the latter case, to 
keep them unsheathed, and prefer falling with them in their 
hands, to the relinquishment thereof." 

« 5. In his acts, Americans, you have seen the man. In the com- 
plicated excellence of character he stands alone. Let no future 
Plutarch attempt the iniquity of parallel. Let no soldier of for- 
tune ; let no usurping conqueror ; let not Alexander or Cesar ; let 
not Cromwell or Bonaparte ; let none among the dead or the liv- 
ing, appear in the same picture with Washington ; or let them 
appear as the shade to his light. On this subject, my country- 
men, it is for others to speculate, but it is for us to feel. Yet in 
proportion to the severity of the stroke ought to be our thankful- 
ness that it was not inflicted sooner. Through a long series of 
years has God preserved our Washington a public blessing ; and, 
now that he lias removed him for ever, shall we presume to say, 
What doest thou ? 

6. Never did the tomb preach more powerfully the dependance 
of all things on the will of the Most High. The greatest of mor- 
tals crumble into dust the moment he commands, Return, ye chil- 
dren of men. Washington was but the instrument of a benignant 
God. He sickens, he dies, that we may learn not to trust in men, 
nor to make flesh our arm. But though Washington is dead, Je- 
hovah lives. God of our fathers ! be our God, and the God of 



200 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

our children ! Thou art our refuge and our hope ; the pillar of 
our strength; the wall of our defence, and our unfading glory! 

Y.Americans! This God, who raised up Washington and 
gave you liberty, exacts from you the duty of cherishing it with 
a zeal according to knowledge. Never Bully, by apathy or by 
outrage, your fair inheritance, ltisk not, for one moment, on vis- 
ionary theories, the solid blessings of your lot. To you, particu- 
larly, youth of America ! applies the solemn charge. In all 
the perils of your country, remember Washington. Tin- freedom 
of reason and of right has been handed down to you on the point 
of the hero's s wo id. Guard with veneration the sacred deposite. 
The curse of ages will real upon yon, ( I youth of America! if ever 
you surrender to foreign ambition, or domestic lawlessness, the 
precious liberties for which Washington fought, and your fathers 
Wed. 

8. I can not part with you, fellow-citizens, without urging the 
long remembrance of our present assembly. This day we wipe 
away the reproach of republics, that they know not how to be 
grateful. In your treatment of living patriots, recall your love 
and your regret of Washington. Lei not future inconsistency 
charge this day with hypocrisy. Happy America, if she gives an 
instance of universal principle in her sorrows for the man, "first in 
war, first in peace, and first in the affections of his country ! n 



LESSON LXVI. 

THE RIGHTS OF WOMEN. MRS. L. H. SIGOURNEY. 

1. There is much clamor in these days of progress, respecting 
a grant of new rights, or an extension of privileges for our sex. A 
powerful moralist has said, that " In contentions for power, both 
the philosophy and poetry of life are dropped and trodden down." 
Would not a still greater loss accrue to domestic happiness, and to 



COBB'S SPEAKEE. 201 

the interests of well-balanced society, should the innate delicacy 
and prerogative of woman, as woman, be forfeited or sacrificed ? 

2. " I have given her as a help meet," said the Voice that can 
not eiT, when it spake unto Adam, in the cool of the day, amidst 
the trees of Paradise. Not as a toy, a clog, a wrestler, a prize- 
fighter. No ; a help meet, such as was fitting for man to desire, 
and for woman to become. 

3. Since the Creator has assigned different spheres of action 
for the different sexes, it is to be presumed, from His unerring wis- 
dom, that there is work enough in each department to employ 
them, and that the faithful performance of that work will be for 
the benefit of both. If he has made one the priestess of the inner 
temple, committing to her charge its sacred shrine, its unrevealed 
sanctities, why should she seek to mingle in the warfare that may 
thunder at its gates or rock its turrets ? Need she be again 
tempted by pride, or curiosity, or glowing words, to barter her 
own Eden ? 

4. The true nobility of woman is to keep her own sphere, and 
to adorn it ; not like the comet, daunting and perplexing other 
systems, but as the pure star, which is the first to light the day, 
and the last to leave it. If she share not the fame of the ruler 
and the blood-shedder, her good works, such as " become those 
who profess godliness," though they leave no deep " foot-prints on 
the sands of time," may find record in the " Lamb's Book of 
Life." 

5. Mothers ! are not our rights sufficiently extensive ; the sanc- 
tuary of home, the throne of the heart, the " moulding of the 
whole mass of mind in its formation ?" Have we not power 
enough in all realms of sorrow and suffering ; over all forms of 
ignorance and want ; amidst all ministrations of love from the 
cradle-dream to the sepulchre ? 

6. So, let us be content and diligent ; ay, grateful and joyful, 
making this brief life a hymn of praise, until called to that choir 
which knows no discord, and whose melody is eternal. 



202 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

LESSON LXVII. 

EXTRACT FROM A SPEECH OF PATRICK HENRY IN THE LEGISLATURE 
OF VIRGINIA, IN FAVOR OF PERMITTING THE BRITISH REFUGEES 
TO RETURN TO THE UNITED STATES. 

1. Mr. Chairman, — The personal feelings of a politician ought 
not to be permitted to cuter these walls. The question before us 
is a national one, an<l in deciding it, if we act wisely, nothing will 
be regarded bat the interest of the nation. On the altar of my 
country's good, I, for one, am willing to sacrifice all personal re- 
sentments, all private wrongs ; and I natter myself that I am not 
the only man in this house, who is capable of making such a 
sacrifice. 

2. We have, sir, an extensive country, without population. 
What can be a more obvious policy, than that this country ought 
to be peopled ? People form the strength and constitute the 
wealth of a nation. I want to see our vast forests filled up by 
some process a little more speedily than the ordinary course of 
nature. I wish to see these states rapidly ascending to that rank 
which their natural advantages authorize them to hold among the 
nations of the earth. 

3. Cast your eyes, sir, over this extensive country. Observe the 
salubrity of your climate ; the variety and fertility of your soil ; 
and see that soil intersected, in every quarter, by bold navigable 
streams, flowing to the east and to the west, as if the finger of Heav- 
en were marking out the course of your settlements, inviting you 
to enterprise, and pointing the w 7 ay to wealth. 

4. Sir, you are destined, at some period or other, to become a 
great agricultural and commercial people ; the only question is, 
whether you choose to reach this point by slow gradations, and at 
some distant period, lingering on through a long and sickly minority, 
subjected meanwhile to the machinations, insults, and oppressions 
of enemies foreign and domestic, without sufficient strength to 
resist and chastise them ; or whether you choose rather to rush at 
once, as it were, to the full enjoyment of those high destinies, and 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 203 

be able to cope, single-handed, with the proudest oppressor of the 
world. 

5. If you prefer the latter cpurse, as I trust you do, encourage 
emigration, encourage the husbandmen, the mechanics, the mer- 
chants of the old world to come and settle in the land of promise. 
Make it the home of the skilful, the industrious, the fortuuate and 
the happy, as well as the asylum of the distressed. 

6. Fill up the measure of your population as speedily as you 
can, by the means which Heaven hath placed in your power ; and, 
I venture to prophesy, there are those now living, who will see 
this favored land among the most powerful on earth ; able, sir, to 
take care of herself, without resorting to that policy which is 
always so dangerous, though sometimes unavoidable, of calling in 
foreign aid. 

7. Yes, sir, they will see her great in arts and in arms, her 
golden harvests waving over fields of immeasurable extent, her 
commerce penetrating the most distant seas, and her cannon 
silencing the vain boast of those who now proudly affect to rule 
the waves. 



LESSON LXVIII. 

GRAVES OF THE POOR. GRAY. 

1. Perhaps in this neglected spot is laid 

Some heart once pregnant with celestial fire ; 
Hands that the rod of empire might have swayed, 
Or waked to ecstasy the living lyre : 

2. But Knowledge to their eyes her ample page, 

Rich with the spoils of time, did ne'er unroll ; 
Chill Penury repressed their noble rage, 
And froze the genial current of the soul. 

3. Full many a gem of purest ray serene 

The dark unfathomed caves of ocean bear ; 



204 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, 
And waste its sweetness on the desert air. 

4. Some village Hampden, that, with dauntless breast, 

The little tyrant of his fields withstood ; 
Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest ; 
Some Cromwell, guiltless of his country's blood. 

5. The applause of listening senates to command, 

The threats of pain and ruin to despise ; 
To scatter plenty o'er a smiling land, 

And read their history in a nation's eyes, 

6. Their lot forbade : nor circumscribed alone 

Their growing virtues, but their crimes confined ; 
Forbade to wade through slaughter to a throne, 
And shut the gates of mercy on mankind ; 

7. The struggling pangs of conscious truth to hide ; 

To quench the blushes of ingenuous shame; 
Or heap the shrine of luxury and pride 
With incense kindled at the muse's flame. 

8. Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife, 

Their sober wishes never learned to stray ; 
Along the cool sequestered vale of life 

They kept the noiseless tenor of their way. 

9. Yet even these bones from insult to protect, 

Some frail memorial still erected nigh, 
With uncouth rhymes and shapeless sculpture decked, 
Implores the passing tribute of a sigh. 

10. For who, to dumb forgetfulness a prey, 

This pleasing anxious being e'er resigned, 
Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day, 
Nor cast one longing, lingering look behind ? 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 205 

LESSON LXIX. 

DERBYSHIRE (ENGLAND-) CAVERNS. ANONYMOUS. 

1. The young party rose the next morning with high expecta- 
tions of entertainment, from the examination of a chain of 
caverns that is situated at the foot of a vast range of rocks, thrown 
up naturally on the side of a steep mountain, upon which stands 
an old castle, said to have been built in the time of Edward the 
Black Prince. 

2. The entrance is very spacious, and forms a circular arch, 
opening, to the astonishment of the beholder, into a gray, sparry 
rock of limestone. Here they were met by the guide, who gains 
a livelihood by conducting strangers into the recesses of the 
cavern. They followed their conductor into the outer porch. At 
first the light was pretty strong, but every step they advanced 
the gloom increased. 

3. The melancholy twilight of this vast vault is enlivened by 
two manufactories that are carried on within the place. The busy 
scene, so unexpected, was very pleasing, especially to Louisa, 
whose little heart began to flutter as she entered these dreary 
regions. On one side were the young girls belonging to the 
inkle manufactory, turning the wheels, winding thread, and 
amusing their companions with cheerful songs ; while the rope- 
makers opposite to them were spinning cords, and twisting cables, 
or forming them into coils. 

4. She was not less surprised at observing two houses in this 
subterranean apartment, entirely separate from the rock, with, 
roofs, chimneys, doors, and windows, and inhabited by several 
families. The young girls surrounded them in groups, some offer- 
ing to show them the manufactories, others presented pieces of spar 
found in the cavern, in hopes they would purchase some. Mrs. 
Middleton, after satisfying them with a little money, took each of 
her daughters by the hand, and kept close behind Mr. Franklin 
and the boys, who followed the steps of the guide. 

5. After he had furnished each of the company with a lighted 



206 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

flambeau, he opened the door that led to a subterraneous gallery 
at the bottom of the grand vestibule, as it may be called. For 
some time curiosity overcame fear, and they proceeded with firm 
steps, (though the projections of the rocks hung so low in many 
places that they could not walk upright,) except now and then 
that Louisa silently squeezed her mother's hand. 

6. They advanced, sometimes stooping, sometimes erect, a 
hundred and forty feet, without complaint, till they reached the 
banks of a small rivulet, with a skiff floating upon it, ready to 
carry them to the other side: it was not very deep, but wholly 
enclosed in the solid rock; it stretched so far into the low vault, 
that they could not see an end of it. 

1. Here the guide stopped, and told them, that the caverns be- 
yond this rivulet exceeded, in wonder and beauty, any thing that 
imagination could suggest ; but that it was impossible to see them, 
unless they would submit to be ferried over, one at a time, 
stretched out at length on some clean straw, in the little boat they 
saw on the water. Catharine hesitated ; Louisa entreated to go 
back ; but Arthur, always fearless, jumped into the boat, and laid 
himself flat upon his back. 

8. The guide then stepped into the water, and pushed forward 
the little bark with one hand, while he held the torch in the other. 
The rest followed by turns, till none were left but Mrs. Middleton 
and Louisa, who, persuaded by her mother that there was no cause 
for fear, and encouraged by the example of her companions, sum- 
moned courage to enter the boat. On landing, they found them- 
selves in a cavern of vast extent, arched over with the solid rock 
at a prodigious height. 

9. At the farther end of this huge cave was another water 
to cross ; but they were grown bolder by habit, and went over 
without difficulty. This likewise led to a cavern of great magnitude. 
At its entrance a pile of rock projects ; water continually trickles 
away slowly from the top, and leaves a sediment of a stony nature. 
Persevering in their subterranean journey, they advanced beyond 
this to another cavern, called the Chancel. The vaults here are 
very lofty ; and, in the sides of the rock are hollow places, that, 






COBB'S SPEAKER. 207 

with the aid of a little fancy, may be conceived to represent Gothic 
■windows and doors. 

10. Large sparry icicles, some as clear as crystal, hang from 
the roof upon the crags that project, and appear like the drapery 
of curtains. The rocky floor is as smooth as a pavement, which, 
with the reflection of the torches, the gloomy solemnity of the 
place, and the chill damp, produced an inexpressible awe on every 
mind. While their attention was steadfastly fixed on the objects 
before them, they were struck, on a sudden, with harmonious 
sounds, that seemed to echo from, the lofty roof. 

11. Every eye was in an instant turned towards the place 
whence the melody proceeded, when they beheld, in a niche at 
the other end, about forty-eight feet from the bottom, five figures 
in white garments, immovable as statues, holding a torch in each 
hand, and singing an air adapted to the occasion. These female 
choristers, they afterward found, had been placed in that situation 
by the contrivance of the guide, to produce an extraordinary effect 
upon the spectators. 

12. The soothing effects of the music gave them fresh spirits, 
and they advanced cheerfully still farther to several smaller caverns, 
which are intersected by the windings of a pretty large stream, 
whose gentle murmurs added to the general air of melancholy 
solemnity. 

13. Having advanced to the shores of a small river, which, 
from the depth of the rocks that hung over it, could not be passed, 
they were obliged to turn back, and retrace the same recesses of 
this hollow mountain that led them thither. 



LESSON LXX. 

PHYSICAL AND MORAL GREATNESS OF AMERICA. PHILLIPS. 

1. Americans ! you have a country vast in extent, and em- 
bracing all the varieties of the most salubrious climes ; held, not 
by charters wrested from unwilling kings, but the bountiful gift 



208 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

of the Author of nature. The exuberance of your population is 
daily divesting the gloomy wilderness of its rude attire, and splen- 
did cities rise to cheer the dreary desert 

2. You have a government deservedly celebrated as " giving 
the sanctions of law to the precepts of reason ;" presenting, instead 
of the rank luxuriance of natural licentiousness, the corrected 
sweets of civil liberty. You have fought the battles of freedom, 
and kindled that sacred flame which now glows with vivid fervor 
throngli the greatest empire in Europe. 

3. We indulge the sanguine hope, that her equal laws and vir- 
tuous conduct will hereafter afford examples of imitation to all sur- 
rounding nations : that the blissful period will soon arrive, when 
man shall be elevated to his primitive character; when illumina- 
fced reason and regulated liberty shall once more exhibit him in 
the image of his Maker; when all the inhabitants of the globe 
shall be freemen and fellow-citizens, and patriotism itself be lost 
in universal philanthropy. 

4. Then shall volumes of incense incessantly roll from altars 
inscribed to liberty. Then shall the innumerable varieties of the 
human race unitedly " worship in her sacred temple, whose pillars 
shall rest on the remotest corners of the earth, and whose arch will 
be the vault of heaven." 



LESSON LXXI. 

THE EAGLE AND THE SWAN. FROM THE GERMAN. 

THE SWAN. 

1. My tranquil life is passed the waves among, 
Light ripples tracing as I glide along, 
And the scarce ruffled tide, as in a glass, 
Reflects my form unaltered as I pass ! 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 209 

THE EAGLE. 

2. In the clefts of the rocks my wild dwelling I form, 
I sail through the air on the wings of the storm, 
'Mid dangers and combats I dart on my prey, 
And trust the bold pinion that bears me away ! 

THE SWAN. 

3. Won by the charm of Phoebus, in the wave 
Of heavenly harmony I dare to lave, 
Couched at his feet, I listen to the lays, 

In Tempe's vale, that echo to his praise ! 

THE EAGLE. 

4. I perch at the right hand of Jove on his throne, 
And the thunderbolt launch when his signal is shown, 
And my heavy wings droop, when in slumber I lie, 
O'er the sceptre that sways the wide earth from on high ! 

THE SWAN. 

5. Me charms the heaven's blue arch, serene and bland, 
And odorous flowers attract me to the land, 
While, basking in the sun's departing beams, 

I stretch my white wings o'er the purpled streams ! 

THE EAGLE. 

6. I exult in the tempest, triumphant and bold, 
When the oaks of the forest it rends from their hold, 
I demand of the thunder, the spheres when it shakes, 
If, like me, a wild joy in destruction it takes ! 

THE SWAN. 

T. Oft in the glassy tide the stars I view, 

And that blue heaven the waves give back anew, 
And dim regret recalls me to the home, 
In higher spheres, reluctant whence I roam ! 



210 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

THE EAGLE. 

8. With joy, from the hour that my young life begun, 
I have soared to t! I have gazed on the sun, 
I can not stoop down to the du>t of the earth, 
Allied to the gods, I exult in my birth ! 

THE SWAN". 

9. \Vhen a calm death succeeds to tranquil life, 

iinks detaching without pain or strife, 
■ice restores its primal power, 
Its dying tones shall hail the solemn h 

THE EAGLE. 

10. The soul, like the phenix, springs forth from the j ■;. 
All free and unveiled, to the skies to aspire, 
To hail the bright vision that bursts on its view, 
And its youth at the dark torch of death to renew ! 



LESSON LXXII. 



HOW WE WENT WHALING OFF THE CAPE OF GOOD HOPE. 

DICKENS' HOUSEHOLD WORDS. 

1. At Algoa Bay, in the eastern provinces of the Cape Colony, 
there is, and has been for thirty years, a whaling establishment. By 
what instinct these monsters of the deep ascertain the settlement 
of man on the shores they frequent, it would be difficult to say. 
But that they do so, and that they then comparatively desert such 

i, is undoubted. "Where one whale is now seen off the south- 
eastern coast of Africa, twenty were seen in former times, when the 
inhabitants of the country were few. 

2. It is the same in > : tA, and every other whale-fre- 
quented coast Nevertheless, the whaling establishment I have 



COBB'S SPEAKEK. 211 

mentioned is still kept up in Algoa Bay, and with good reason. 
One whale per annum will pay all the expenses and outgoings of 
its maintenance ; every other whale taken in the course of a year 
is a clear profit. 

3. The value of a 'whale depends, of course, upon its size ; the 
average is from three hundred pounds to six hundred pounds. The 
establishment at Algoa Bay consists of a stone-built house for the 
residence of the foreman, with the coppers and boiling-houses at- 
tached ; a wooden boat-house, in which are kept three whale-boats, 
with all the lines and tackle belonging to them ; and a set of 
javelins, harpoons, and implements for cutting up the whales, 
carcasses. Then, there are a boat's crew of picked men, six in 
number, besides the cockswain and the harpooner. There are sel- 
dom above two or three whales taken in the course of a year ; oc- 
casionally not one. 

4. The appearance of a whale in the bay is known immediately ; 
and, great is the excitement caused thereby in the little town of 
Port Elizabeth, close to which the whaling establishment is situated. 
It is like a sudden and unexpected gala, got up for the entertain- 
ment of the inhabitants, with nothing to pay. 

5. A treat of this sort is suddenly got up by the first appearance 
of a whale in those parts. Tackle-boats and men are got ready in 
a twinkling. "We jump into the stern-sheets of the boat. Six 
weather-beaten, muscular tars are at work at the oars, and there, 
in the bows, stands the harpooner, preparing his tackle ; a boy is 
by his side. Coils of line lie at their feet, with harpoons attached 
to them, and two or three spears or javelins. 

6. " Pull away, boys ; there she blows again !" cries the cock- 
swain, and at each stroke the strong men almost lift the little craft 
out of the water. The harpooner says nothing ; he is a very silent 
fellow ; but wo to the unlucky whale that comes within the whirl 
of his unerring harpoon ! 

*7. Meantime, our fat friend of the ocean is rolling himself about, 
as if such things as harpoons never existed ; as if he were an infi- 
del in javelins. We are approaching him ; a dozen more strokes 
and we shall be within aim. Yet the harpooner seems cool and 



212 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

unmoved as ever; he holds the harpoon, it is true; but he seems 
to grasp it no tighter, or to make any preparation for a strike. Be 
knows the whale better than we do; better than his crew. He baa 
been a harpooner for thirty years, and once harpooned twenty-six 
whales in one } T ear with his own hand, lie was right not to hurry 
himself, you Bee, tor tin- whale has at Last caught sight of us, and 
has plunged below the surface. 

8. Now, however, tin- harpooner makes an imperceptible sign to 
the cockswain. The cockswain Bays, "Give way, boys," scarcely 
above his breath, and the boat skim- Caster than ever ofer the 
waves. The harpooner's hand clutches more tightly the harpoon, 
and he slowly raises his arm ; his mouth is compressed, hut his 
face is as calm as ever. A few yards ahead of us ;i wave seems to 
swell above the others: u Whiz :" at the very moment you catch 
sight of the whale's back again above the water, the harpoon ifl in 
it, eighteen inches deep, hurled by the unerring arm of the silent 
harpooner. 

9. The red blood of the monster gushes forth, "incarnadining," 
as Macbeth Bays, the waves. " Back water," shouts the harp 

as the whale writhes with the pain, and flings his huge body about 
with force enough to submerge twenty of our little crafts at one 
blow. But he has plunged down again below the surface, and the 
pace at which he dives you may judge of, by the wonderful ra- 
pidity with which the line attached to the harpoon runs over the 
bows of the boat. Now, too, you see the use of the boy who is 
bailing water from the sea in a small bucket, and pouring it in- 
cessantly over the edge of the boat where the line runs, or in two 
minutes the friction would set fire to it. 

10. You begin to think the whale is never coming back ; but 
the crew know better. See too, the line is running out more slowly 
every instant ; it ceases altogether now, and hangs slackly over the 
boat's side. He is coming up exhausted to breathe again. There 
are a few moments of suspense, during which the harpooner is get- 
ting ready and poising one of the javelins. It is longer, lighter, 
and sharper than the harpoon, but it has no line attached to it. 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 213 

The harpoon is to catch ; the javelin is to kill. Slowly the whale 
rises again, but he is not within aim. 

11. " Pull again, boys ;" wdiile the boy is hauling in the line as 
fast as he can. We are near enough now. Again a whiz ; again 
another ; and the harpooner has sent two javelins deep into the 
creature's body ; while the blood flows fast. Suddenly, the whale 
dashes forward. No need of pulling at the oars now ; we are 
giving him fresh line as fast as we can, yet he is taking us through 
the water at the rate of twenty miles an horn- at least. One would 
fancy that the harpoons and the javelins have only irritated him, 
and that the blood he has lost has diminished nothing of his 
strength. Not so, however ; the pace slackens now ; we are 
scarcely moving through the water. 

12. "Pull again, boys," and we approach ; while another deadly 
javelin pierces him. This time he seems to seek revenge. He 
dashes towards us ; what can save us ? 

13. " Back water," cries the harpooner, while the cockswain 
taking the hint at the same moment, with a sw^eep of his oar 
the little boat performs a kind of curvet backward, and the 
monster has shot past us unharming, but not unharmed ; the har- 
pooner, cool as ever, has hurled another javelin deep into him, and 
smiles half pityingly at this impotent rage, which, he knows full 
well, bodes a termination of the contest. The red blood is spout- 
ing forth from four wounds, " neither as deep as a well, nor as 
wide as a church-door," but enough to kill ; even a whale. He 
rolls over heavily and slowly ; a few convulsive movements shake 
his mighty frame ; then he floats motionless on the water ; and the 
whale is dead ! 

14. Kopes are now made fast around him, and he is slowly 
towed away to shore, opposite the whaling establishment. A 
crowd is collected to see his huge body hauled up on to the beach, 
and to speculate on his size and value. In two days all his blub- 
ber is cut away and melting in the coppers. Vultures are feeding 
on his flesh, and men are cleansing his bones. In two months, 
barrels of his oil are waiting for shipment to England. The fringe- 



214 COBB'S SPEAK Eli. 

work which lined his mouth, and which we call whaleb 
ready for the uses to which ladies apply it. 

15. Hi- teeth, which are beautiful ivory, are being fashi 
into ornaments by the turner; and hi- iiiiiii«-ii— «- ribs are serving 

as landmark- on tin- different farms about the country, for which 

purpose they are admirably adapted. Meanwhile our friend, the 

barpooner, and his crew are reposing on their laurel.-, and looking 
out tbr fresh luck ; while the proprietor of the establishment 
hundred pounds the richer from this k< catching a whale." 



LESSON LXXIII. 



EXTRACT FROM A SPEECH IN THE SENATE OF THE UNITED STATES 
IN RELATION TO SOUTH CAROLINA. HAYNE. 

1. If there be one State in the Union, Mr. 1 'resident, that may 
challenge comparison with any oth.-r, lor a uniform, zealous, ar- 
dent, and unealeulating devotion to the Union, that State is South 
Carolina. Sir, from the very commencement of the revolution, up 
to this hour, there is no sacrifice, however great, she has not cheer- 
fully made ; no sen-ice she has ever hesitated to perform. 

2. She has adhered to you in prosperity; but, in your adver- 
sity, she has clung to you with more than filial affection. No 
matter what was the condition of her domestic affairs, though de- 
prived of her resources, divided by parties, or surrounded by diffi- 
culties, the call of the country has been to her as the voice of God. 
Domestic discord ceased at the sound ; every man became at once 
reconciled to his brethren, and the sons of Carolina were all seen, 
crowding together to the temple, bringing their gifts to the altar 
of their common country. 

3. What, sir, was the conduct of the South, during the revolu- 
tion ? Sir, I honor New England for her conduct in that glorious 
struggle. But great as is the praise which belongs to her, I think 
at least equal honor is due to the South. Never was there ex- 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 215 

hibited, in the history of the world, higher examples of noble da- 
ring, dreadful suffering, and heroic endurance, than by the whigs 
of Carolina, during the revolution. The whole State, from the 
mountains to the sea, was overrun by an overwhelming force of 
the enemy. The fruits of industry perished on the spot where 
they were produced, or were consumed by the foe. 

4. " The plains of Carolina" drank up the most precious blood 
of her citizens. Black, smoking ruins marked the places which 
had been the habitation of her children. Driven from their homes 
into the gloomy and almost impenetrable swamps, even there, the 
spirit of liberty survived, and South Carolina, sustained by the ex- 
ample of her Sumpters, and her Marions, proved, by her conduct, 
that though her soil might be overrun, the spirit of her people was 
invincible. 



LESSON LXXIV. 



EXTRACT FROM A SPEECH IN THE SENATE OF THE UNITED STATES 
IN REPLY TO COL. HATNE. WEBSTER. 

1. The eulogium pronounced on the character of the State of 
South Carolina, by the honorable gentleman, for her revolutionary 
and other merits, meets my hearty concurrence. I shall not ac- 
knowledge that the honorable member goes before me, in regard 
for whatever of distinguished talent or distinguished character, 
South Carolina has produced. I claim part of the honor ; I par- 
take in the pride of her great names. 

2. I claim them for countrymen, one and all ; the Laurenses, 
the Rutledges, the Pinckneys, the Sumpters, the Marions, Ameri- 
cans all, whose fame is no more to be hemmed in by state lines, 
than their talents and patriotism were capable of being circum- 
scribed within the same narrow limits. In their day and genera- 
tion, they served and honored the country, and the whole country, 
and their renown is of the treasures of the whole country. 

3. Him, whose honored name the gentleman himself bears; 
does he suppose me less capable of gratitude for his patriotism, or 



216 COBB'S Sl'EAKHIi. 

sympathy for his suffering, than if bia eyes had first opened apon 
the light in Massachusetts, instead of South Carolina ! Sir, docs 
da suppose it iii his power to exhibit in Carolina a name so bright 

as to produce envy in my bosom ? No, sir, increased gratifica- 
tion and delight rather, Sir, I thank God, that, if I am gifted 
With little of the spirit which is said to be able to raise mortal- to 
the ski---, 1 have y.t none, as I trust, of that other spirit, which 
would drag angels down. 

4. When I shall be found, sir, in my place here in the Senate, 
or elsewhere, to sneer at public merit, because it happened to spring 
up beyond the little limits of my own state or neighborhood; when 
I refu-e for any Mich cause, or for any cause, the homage due to 
American talent, to elevated patriotism, to sincere devotion to lib- 
erty and the country ; or, if I see an uncommon endowment of 
Heaven ; if I see extraordinary capacity or virtue in any son of 
the South ; and if, moved by local prejudice, or gangrened by 
state jealousy, I get up here to abate a tithe of a hair from his 
just character and just fame, may my tongue cleave to the roof of 
my mouth. 

5. Mr. President, I shall enter no encomium upon Massachusetts. 
She needs none. There she is ; behold her, and judge for your- 
selves. There is her history ; the world knows it by heart. The 
past, at least, is secure. There are Boston, and Concord, and Lexing- 
ton, and Bunker-hill ; and there they will remain for ever. And, 
sir, where American liberty raised its first voice, and where its 
youth was nurtured and sustained, there it still lives, in the 
strength of its manhood, and full of its original spirit. 

6. If discord and disunion shall wound it ; if party strife and 
blind ambition shall hawk at and tear it ; if folly and madness, if 
uneasiness under salutary restraint, shall succeed to separate it 
from that Union, by which alone its existence is made sure, it will 
stand, in the end, by the side of that cradle in which its infancy 
was rocked ; it will stretch forth its arm with whatever of vigor it 
may still retain, over the friends who gathered around it ; and, it 
will fall at last, if fall it must, amid the proudest monuments of its 
glory, and on the very spot of its origin. 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 217 

LESSON LXXV. 

THE TRAVELLER AT THE RED SEA. MISS H. F. GOULD. 

1. At last have I found thee, thou dark rolling sea ! 
I gaze on thy face, and I listen to thee, 

With a spirit o'erawed by the sight and the sound, 
While mountain and desert frown gloomy around. 

2. And thee, mighty deep, from afar I behold, 
Which God swept apart for his people of old, 
That Egypt's proud army, unstained by their blood, 
Received on thy bed to entomb in thy flood. 

3. I cast my eye out, where the cohorts went down ; 
A throng of pale spectres no waters can drown, 
With banner and blades seen surmounting the waves, 
As Pharaoh's bold hosts sunk in arms to their graves. 

4. But quick from the light of the skies they withdraw, 
At silent Omnipotence shrinking with awe ; 

And each sinks away in his billowy shroud, 

From him who walked here, clothed in fire and a cloud. 

5. I stand by the pass the freed Hebrews then trod, 
Sustained by the hand of Jehovah, dry-shod ; 
And think how the song of salvation they sang, 
With praise to His name, through the wilderness rang. 

6. Our Father, who then didst thine Israel guide, 
Rebuke, and console in their wanderings wide, 
From these gloomy waters, through this desert drear, 
O, still in life's maze to thy pilgrim be near. ,. 

7. While thou, day by day, wilt thy manna bestow, 
And make, for my thirst, the rock fountain to flow, 
Refreshed by the way, will I speed to the clime 
Of rest for the weary, beyond earth and time. 

10 



218 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

LESSON LXXVI. 

EDUCATION. EXTRACT FltOM AN ADDRESS DELIVERED AT THE 

COLLEGIATE IN0TXTUTXOH IN AMHERST, UA8&, BY REV. DR. 
HUMPHREY, ON OCCASION OF HIS I N Alt; I RATION TO THE 
PRESIDENCY OK 'J II AT 1NMIH lloN, OCT. 15, 1823. 

1. Convened m we are thia day, in the portals of science and 
literature, and with all their arduous heights and profound depths 
and Elysian fields before us, education offers itself as the inspiring 
theme of our present meditations. This in a free, enlightened, and 
Christian state, i^ confessedly s subject of the highest moment. 
How can the diamond reveal it- lustre from beneath incumbent 
rocks and earthy strata ? How can the marble speak, Of stand 
forth in all the divine symmetry of the human form, till it is taken 
from the quarry and fashioned by the hand of the artist I 

2. And how can man be intelligent, happy, or useful, without 
the culture and discipline of education ? It is this that smooths 
and polishes the roughness of his nature It is this that unlocks 
the prison-house of his mind and releases the captive. It is the 
transforming hand of education, which is now in so many heathen 
lands moulding savageness and ignorance, pagan fanaticism and 
brutal stupidity, revenge, and treachery, and lust ; and in short, 
all the warring elements of our lapsed nature, into the various 
forms of exterior decency, of mental brilliancy, and of Christian 
loveliness. 

3. It is education that pours light into the understanding, lays 
up its golden treasures in the memory, softens the asperities of the 
temper, checks the waywardness of passion and appetite, and trains 
to habits of industry, temperance, and benevolence. It is this 
which qualifies men for the pulpit, the senate, the bar, the prac- 
tice of medicine, and the bench of justice. It is to education, to 
its domestic agents, its schools and colleges, its universities and 
literary societies, that the w r orld is indebted for the thousand com- 
forts and elegances of civilized life, for almost every useful art, dis- 
covery, and invention. 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 219 

4. Education, moreover, is power, physical, intellectual, and 
moral power. To be convinced of this, we need only compare our 
own great republic with the myriads of pagan or savage men, in 
any part of the world. How astonishing the difference in every 
important respect ! For what can the ignorant hordes of Central 
Africa or Asia do, either in arts or in arms ? What, to make them- 
selves happy at home or respected abroad ? And what, on the 
other hand, can not civilized Americans accomplish ? 

5. In a word, education, regarding man as a rational, account- 
able, and immortal being, elevates, expands, and enriches his 
mind ; cultivates the best affections of his heart ; pours a thou- 
sand sweet and gladdening streams around the dwellings of the 
poor as well as the mansions of the rich ; and, while it greatly 
multiplies and enhances the enjoyments of time, helps to train up 
the soul for the bliss of eternity. 

6. How extremely important, then, is every inquiry which re- 
lates to the philosophy of the human mind, to the early discipline 
and cultivation of its noble powers, to the comparative merits and 
defects of classical books and prevailing systems of instruction, to 
the advantages accruing from mathematical and other abstruse 
studies, to the means of educating the children of the poor in our 
public seminaries, to the present state of science and literature in 
our country, and to the animating prospects which are opening 



LESSON LXXVIL 

THE LONE INDIAN. MISS FRANCIS. 

1. For many a returning autumn, a lone Indian was seen stand- 
ing at the consecrated spot we have mentioned ; but, just thirty 
years after the death of Soonseetah, he was noticed for the last 
time. His step was then firm, and his figure erect, though he 
seemed old and way-worn. Age had not dimmed the fire of his 
eye, but an expression of deep melancholy ha.d settled on his 



220 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

wrinkled brow. It was Powontonamo ; he who had once been 
the Eagle of the Mohaw kfl ! He came to lie down and die beneath 
the broad oak, which shadowed the grave of Sunny-eye. 

2. Alas, the white man's axe had been there ! The tree he had 
planted was dead ; and the vine, which had Leaped bo rigorously 

from branch to branch, now, yellow and withering, was falling to 

the ground. A deep groan mini from the soul of the savage. For 
thirty wearisome yean be had watched that oak, with its twining 
tendrils. They were the only things left in the wide world for him 
to lore, and they were gone 1 Be looked abroad. The hunting 
land of his tribe was changed, Like its chieftain. 

3. Xo light canoe now shot down the river, like a bird upon the 
wing. The laden boal of the white man alone broke its smooth 
surface. The Englishman's road wound like a serpent around the 
banks of the Mohawk ; and iron hoofs had so beaten down the 
war path, that a hawk's eye could not discover an Indian track. 
The Last wigwam was destroyed ; and the sun looked boldly down 
upon spots he had visited only by stealth, during thousands and 
thousands of moons. 

4. The few remaining trees, clothed in the fantastic mourning 
of autumn; the long line of heavy clouds, melting away before 
the coming sun ; and the distant mountain, seen through the blue 
mist of departing twilight, alone remained as he had seen them in 
his boyhood. All things spoke a sad language to the heart of the 
desolate Indian. 

5. " Yes," said he, " the young oak and the vine are like the 
Eagle and the Sunny-eye. They are cut down, torn, and trampled 
on. The leaves are falling, and the clouds are scattering, like my 
people. I wish I could once more see the trees standing thick, as 
they did when my mother held me to her bosom, and sung the 
warlike deeds of the Mohawks." 

6. A mingled expression of grief and anger passed over his face, 
as he watched a loaded boat in its passage across the stream. 
" The white man carries food to his wife and children, and he finds 
them in his home," said he. " Where are the squaw and the pap- 
poose of the red man ? They are here !" 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 221 

7. As he spoke lie fixed Ms eye thoughtfully upon the grave. 
After a gloomy silence, he again looked around upon the fair 
scene, with a wandering and troubled gaze. " The pale face may 
like it," murmured he ; "but an Indian can not die here in peace." 
So saying, he broke his bow-string, snapped his arrows, threw them 
on the burial-place of his fathers, and departed for ever. 



LESSON LXXVIII. 

ABBOTSFORD. ANDREW DICKINSON'S FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE. 

1. Abbotsford, on the banks of the classic Tweed, is three 
miles from Melrose. The road is through a broad, fertile valley, 
somewhat undulating, bounded by verdant, swelling hills, along 
the margin of which flows the crystal stream. The entire distance 
both sides of the way was adorned by hawthorn, whose white and 
red flowers were yielding up then beautiful reign to wild roses, red 
and white; so that the whole summer was enlivened with bloom- 
ing hedges. 

2. What on earth could be more lovely ? It was a terrestrial 
heaven of beauty and fragrance ! At a place where the road 
forked off, I chose the most attractive ; and, though this is not 
always the safest way of doing things, in this instance I had no 
doubt it led to the seat of Sir Walter Scott ; and so it did ! 

3. I was all alone, and met no one ; a fit situation to enjoy the 
poetry of silence that reigned around the green vales and gently- 
sloping, far-off hills, covered with yellow, waving harvests. Now 
and then the murmurs of the distant Tweed were borne on the 
light-fluttering breeze, suddenly dying away like the soft whispers 
of spirit-voices. 

4. Did I say I was alone % I was wrong. The amiable author 
of The Seasons was with me everywhere ; yet our social converse 
was more frequent and enthusiastic as we wandered nearer his 



222 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

own native Ednam in Roxburgshire. When I came in sight of 
the Tweed, he exclaimed : 

" Pure parent stream, 

"Whose pastoral banks first heard my Doric reed ; 

And sylvan Jed, thy tributary brook 1" 

5. And then there was a long, " expressive silence !" Near 
yonder woody eminence flows the silver Tweed ; and right behind 
are the turrets of Abbotsford. My heart beat with unwonted 
quickness as I descended the rough pebbly road, the steep bank 
over which was covered with a little forest of Scotch firs and wild- 
w r ood trees, through which the wind breathed in reedy sighs. 

6. The path sweeps gracefully around the declivity, and brings 
me directly in front of Abbotsford. The man who can look at it 
without emotion is no great affair, and is to be pitied. While 
passing the gateway a tear would start. Whence this strange 
agitation ? I could hardly muster courage to pull the door-bell, 
though I knew the master of the mansion was not at home. He 
had gone to the Spirit-Land, and will never come back ! 

V. The entrance to the hall was a porch in imitation of the 
Linlithgow palace, and adorned with stag-horns. The walls and 
roof are panelled of rich carving, from the palace of Dumfermline, 
and hung around with ancient weapons, the cornice being adorned 
with armorial coats of the Douglases, Maxwells, Scotts, Chis- 
holms, Elliotts, Armstrongs, Kers, and others. 

8. A lady in black then conducted me through the armory, a 
narrow arched room running across the building, filled with small 
pieces of armor and weapons in great variety. The drawing-room 
is a lofty saloon, with antique ebony furniture, splendid carved 
cabinets, and fine pictures. 

9. The roof of the dining-room is of richly carved black oak, 
and contains many beautiful pictures, of which the most striking 
are, the head of Queen Mary in a charger, after she was beheaded, 
full length portraits of Lord Essex, Charles II., Claverhouse, Charles 
XII. of Sweden, Cromwell, and one of Scott's great-grandfather, 
w r ho let his beard grow after the execution of Charles I. In this 
very room Scott died ! 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 223 

10. The breakfast parlor is small and neat, looking out upon 
the Tweed below on one side, and the romantic, though rather 
bald and treeless, hills of Ettrick and Yarrow on the other. The 
collection of drawings in water-colors in this room, from Scottish 
antiquities, is very inviting. 

11. The library is a magnificent room, fifty by sixty, with 
20,000 volumes. The roof is of carved oak with pendents, grape- 
clusters, leaves, and tasteful devices, copied from Melrose and Ros- 
lin. Here are busts of Shakspeare, Wordsworth, and other wor- 
thies, and one of Sir Walter himself by Chantery. The study is 
about half as large as the library. Here is his plain arm-chair, 
covered with glossy black leather, and made of beams of the 
house in which Wallace was betrayed. 

12. A light gallery runs around three sides of the room-, with 
only one window, giving the place a lonely, sombre look. From 
his chamber Scott descended into his study without passing 
through any other room.. 

13. Among a thousand curious antiquities are, a Roman camp- 
kettle 2000 years old; a shirt of mail worn by Cromwell when 
reviewing his troops ; a hunting-flask of James I. ; Bonaparte's 
pistols, found in his carriage after the battle of Waterloo ; a set 
of beautifully carved ebony chairs presented by George IV. ; and 
on a porphyry table is a silver vase filled with bones from Piraeus, 
the gift of Lord Byron. 

14. " Scott was very proud of these chairs, and this table and 
vase," said the lady-like guide. " And there is the Tweed where 
Scott loved to fish." Having expressed a wish to try it myself, 
she said I could get fishing-gear at the lodge hard by ; but I soon 
found my excitement was too great for this cool sport ; for though 
a numerous fry were darting about in the limpid stream, I fancied 
the fishes of Scotland were uncommonly shy ; I hardly got a nibble. 

15. When Scott purchased this secluded spot, thirty years ago, 
it was wild and unadorned. Abbotsford, with its adjacent grounds, 
romantic winding walks, and shady bowers, are all the creation of 
his splendid fancy. A waterfall down a steep neighboring ravine 
adds greatly to the romantic effect. 



224 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

16. The declining sun admonished me that I was a sojourner, 

and must hasten back a-foot to Melrose, to take the railway for 
Kelso at six. I could net bear to think this was an eternal fare- 
well to one of the most attractive Bpota in the wide world. 



LESSON LXXIX. 

THF. DEHT DOT TO THE S0LDIER9 op the REVOLUTION'. 

[Extract from Peleg SpragOft'l speech, 00 B bill for the relief of the sur- 
Tiving officers of the Army of tin- fteTolatioo, delivered in the House of 
Representatives of the United States, April 25, 1826.] 

Mr. Chairman, 

1. In relation tothebiH now before as, the amendment of which 
provides for the relief of the Boldiers of the Revolution, I would 
ask, sir, who are the men whom we hare thus grievously wronged I 
Are they mere hirelings, to whom we should be content to weigh 
out justice by the grain and scruple, or are they our greatest earthly 
1 enefaeton I 

2. They Mere actuated by higher and purer motives than any 
soldiers that ever assembled, and exhibited a spectacle of unyield- 
ing fortitude and self-denying magnanimity unequalled in the 
annals of mankind. Others, under a momentary enthusiasm, 
or in the hurrying fever of battle, have fought as desperately. 
Others, when far from succor and from their country, have endured 
and persevered for individual and self-preservation. 

3. But where, in all history, is an example of a soldier}*, with 
no power to control them, who, in a single day, perhaps, could 
have reached their homes in safety, voluntarily continuing to 
endure such protracted miseries, from no motive but inward prin- 
ciples and a sense of duty ? They were imbued with a loftier and 
more expanded spirit of patriotism and philanthropy, and achieved 
more for the happiness of their country and of mankind, than any 
army that ever existed. And where is there an example of moral 



COBB'S SPEAKER. , 225 

sublimity equal to their last act of self-devotion, after peace and in- 
dependence had been acquired ? 

4. That army, which had dared the power and humbled the 
pride of Britain, and wrested a nation from her grasp ; that army, 
with swords in their hands, need not have sued and begged for 
justice. No, sir ; they could have righted their own wrongs, and 
meted out their own rewards. The country was prostrate before 
them ; and if they had raised their arms, and proclaimed them- 
selves sovereign, where was the power that could have resisted 
their sway ? They were not unconscious of their strength, nor did 
they want incitements to use it. 

5. The author of the celebrated Newburg letters told them, 
Your country disdains your cries, and tramples upon your distresses. 
He conjured them, in the most eloquent and energetic language, 
to exert the power which they held, and never to lay down their 
arms until ample justice had been obtained. What was their 
answer? With one voice, they spurned the dark suggestions, 
voluntarily surrendered their arms, and submitted themselves, 
unconditionally, to the civil power. 

6. They quietly dispersed, and parted for their homes, in every 
part of your wide domain, unrewarded, penniless, carrying with 
them nothing but the proud consciousness of the purity and 
dignity of their conduct, and a firm reliance upon then* country's 
honor and their country's faith. And what return has been made 
to them ? Have they not found your high-blown honor a painted 
bubble, and your plighted faith a broken reed? Have not the 
petitions of the soldiers of the revolution been disregarded ? Have 
they not grown old in poverty ? Do they not owe the miserable 
remnant of their lives to charity ? Sir, if we change not our con- 
duct towards them, it must crimson with shame the front of 
history. 

7. It has been said by the gentleman from Virginia, that we 
have already made provision for the poor and the necessitous, and 
that we ought to go no farther. Sir, the soldiers of the revolution 
have a claim of right upon us, and I would do equal and ample 
justice to all, and not mete it out with a stinted and partial 

10* 



226 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

Land. I would not make the payment of our debts to depend 
upon the poverty of our creditors. 

8. No, sir; I would not say to the heroes who fought our 
battles, and, in the dark hour of our adversity, wrought out oar po- 
litical salvation, and to whom we delivered only tattered nga, tad 
called them, in mockery, payment for their servioes; men, whose 
disinterested achievements are not transcended in all the annals of 
chivalry, and who, for us, confronted horrors not surpassed in all the 
histories of all the martyrs ; to these men, of honor most cherished, 
and sentiments mosl exalted; our fathers, the authors of our being; 

9. I would not now say, Come before us in the garb of mendi- 
cants ; how your proud spirits in the dust | (car open the wounds 
of the heart, which you have concealed from every eye, and expose 
your nakedness to a cold, unfeeling world, and put all upon 
record, as a perpetual memorial of your country's ingratitude; 
and then, we will bestow a pittance in charity! You talk of 
erecting statues, and marble memorials of the Father of his 
countiy. 

10. It is well. But could his spirit now be heard within these 
walls, would it not tell you, that, to answer his fervent prayers, 
and verify his eonfident predictions of your gratitude to his com- 
panions in arms, would be a sweeter incense, a more grateful hom- 
age to his memory, than the most splendid mausoleum ? You 
gave hundreds of thousands of dollars to Lafayette. It was well ; 
and the whole country resounded amen. But is not the citizen sol- 
dier, who fought by his side, who devoted every thing to your ser- 
vice, and has been deprived of his promised reward, equally entitled, 
I will not say to your liberality, but to your justice ? 

11. Yet, some- gentlemen tell us, that even the present law is 
too liberal ; that it goes too far, and they would repeal it. They 
w r ould take back even the little which they have given ! And is 
this possible ? Look abroad upon this widely extended land, 
upon its wealth, its happiness, its hopes ; and then turn to the 
aged soldier, who gave you all, and see him descend, in neglect 
and poverty, to the tomb ! The time is short. A few years, and 
these remnants of a former age will no longer be seen. 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 227 

LESSON LXXX. 

THE CHIEFTAIN'S DAUGHTER. GEORGE P. MORRIS. 

1. Upon the barren sand 

A single captive stood, 
Around him came, with bow and brand, 

The red-men of the wood. 
Like him of old, his doom he hears, 

Rock-bound on ocean's rim : 
The chieftain's daughter knelt in tears, 

And breathed a prayer for him. 

2. Above his head in air, 

The savage war-club swung, 
The frantic girl, in wild despair, 

Her arms about him flung. 
Then shook the warriors of the shade, 

Like leaves on aspen limb, 
Subdued by that heroic maid 

Who breathed a prayer for him. 

3. "Unbind him!" gasped the chief, 

" Obey your king's decree !" 
He kissed away her tears of grief, 

And set the captive free. 
'Tis ever thus, when, in life's storm, 

Hope's star to man grows dim, 
An angel kneels in woman's form, 

And breathes a prayer for him. 



228 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

LESSON LXXXI. 
"search the scriptures." 

1. Glance not with careless eye 

The sacred pages o'er ; 
Nor lightly lay the volume by, 
To think of it no more. 

2. Ungrateful ! pause and think, 

Nor madly throw aside 
The passport to eternal life ; 
The sure and only guide. 

3. Be not content to hear 

"What others say ; but go, 
Like the Bereans, daily search 
" Whether these things are so." 

4. Search deeply, prayerfully ; 

There is no promise given 
To those who will not strive t' obtain 
Admission into heaven. 

5. Sure 'tis our highest end 

Eternal life to gain : 
" Search," then, " the Scriptures ;" they alone 
The words of life contain. 

6. They point our wandering feet 

To Christ, the living way ! 

Oh, read, believe, repent, obey ; 

Thus reign in endless day. 






COBB'S SPEAKEK. 229 

LESSON LXXXIL 
paul's defence before king agrippa. — bible. 

1. Then Agrippa said unto Paul, Thou art permitted to speak 
for thyself. Then Paul stretched forth the hand, and answered for 
himself. 

2. I think myself happy, king Agrippa, because I shall answer 
for myself this day before thee, touching all the things whereof I am 
accused of the Jews : 

Especially, because I know thee to be expert in all customs and 
questions which are among the Jews ; wherefore I beseech thee to 
hear me patiently. 

3. My manner of life from my youth, which was at the first 
among mine own nation at Jerusalem, know all the Jews ; 

Which knew me from the beginning, (if they would testify,) 
that after the most straitest sect of our religion, I lived a Pharisee. 

4. And now I stand, and am judged for the hope of the prom- 
ise made of God unto our fathers : 

Unto which promise our twelve tribes, instantly serving God day 
and night, hope to come. For which hope's sake, king Agrippa, 
I am accused of the Jews. 

5. Why should it be thought a thing incredible with you, that 
God should raise the dead ? 

I verily thought with myself, that I ought to do many things 
contrary to the name of Jesus of Nazareth. 

6. Which thing I also did in Jerusalem : and many of the 
saints did I shut up in prison, having received authority from the 
chief priests ; and when they were put to death, I gave my voice 
against them. 

And I punished them oft in every synagogue, and compelled 
them to blaspheme ; and being exceedingly mad against them, I 
persecuted them even unto strange cities. 

7. Whereupon, as I went to Damascus, with authority and com- 
mission from the chief priests, 

At mid-day, king, I saw in the way a light from heaven, 



230 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

above the brightness of the sun, shining round about me, and 
them which journeyed with me. 

8. And when we were all fallen to the earth, I heard a voice 
speaking unto me, and saying in the Hebrew tongue, Saul, Saul, 
why persecutest thou me ? it is hard for thee to kick against the 
pricks. 

And I said, Who art thou, Lord ? And he said, I am Jesus 
whom thou persecutest. 

9. But rise, and stand upon thy feet : for I have appeared unto 
thee for this purpose, to make thee a minister and a witness both 
of these things which thou hast seen, and of those things in the 
which I will appear unto thee ; 

10. Delivering thee from the people, and from the Gentiles, 
unto whom now I send thee ; 

To open their eyes, and to turn them from darkness to light, 
and from the power of Satan unto God, that they may receive for- 
giveness of sins, and inheritance among them which are sanctified 
by faith that is in me. 

11. Whereupon, king Agrippa, I was not disobedient unto 
the heavenly vision : 

But showed first unto them of Damascus, and at Jerusalem, 
and throughout all the coasts of Judea, and then to the Gentiles, 
that they should repent and turn to God, and do works meet for 
repentance. 

12. For these causes the Jews caught me in the temple, and 
went about to kill me. 

Having therefore obtained help of God, I continue unto this 
day, witnessing both to small and great, saying none other things 
than those which the prophets and Moses did say should come : 
That Christ should suffer, and that he should be the first that 
should rise from the dead, and should show light unto the people, 
and to the Gentiles. 

13. And as he thus spake for himself, Festus said with a loud 
voice, Paul, thou art beside thyself; much learning doth make 
thee mad. 



COBB'S SPEAKEK. 231 

But lie said, I am not mad, most noble Festus ; but speak forth 
the words of truth and soberness. 

For the king knoweth of these things, before whom also I speak 
freely : for I am persuaded that none of these things are hidden 
from him ; for this thing was not done in a corner. 

14. King Agrippa, belie vest thou the prophets? I know that 
thou believest. 

Then Agrippa said unto Paul, Almost thou persuadest me to 
be a Christian. 

And Paul said, I would to God, that not only thou, but also all 
that hear me this day, were both almost, and altogether such as I 
am, except these bonds. 



LESSON LXXXIII. 

CONFLICT WITH AN ELEPHANT. FROM CUMMING's HUNTING AD- 
VENTURES IN SOUTH AFRICA. 

1. In a few minutes one of those who had gone off to our left, 
came running breathless to say that he had seen the mighty 
game. I halted for a minute, and instructed Isaac, who carried 
the big Dutch rifle, to act independently of me, while Kleinboy 
was to assist me in the chase ; but, as usual, when the row began, 
my followers thought only of number one. 

2. I bared my arms to the shoulder; and, having imbibed a 
draught of aqua pura from the calabash of one of the spoorers, I 
grasped my trusty two-grooved rifle, and told my guide to go 
ahead. We proceeded silently as might be for a few hundred 
yards, following the guide, when he suddenly pointed, exclaiming, 
" Klow !" and before us stood a herd of mighty bull elephants, 
packed together beneath a shady grove about a hundred and fifty 
yards in advance. 

3. I rode slowly towards them ; and, as soon as they observed 
me, they made a loud rumbling noise, and, tossing their trunks, 



232 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

wheeled right about and made off in one direction, crashing 
through the forest, and leaving a cloud of dust behind them. 1 
wm accompanied by a detachment of my dogs, which assisted me 
in the pursuit. 

4. The distance I had come, and the difficulties I had under- 
gone to behold these elephants, rose fresh before me. I deter- 
mined that on this occasion, at least, I would do my duty; and, 
dashing my spun into u Sunday's" ribs, I was pery soon much too 
close in their rear for safety. The elephants now made an incli- 
nation to my left, whereby 1 obtained a good view of the ivory. 
The herd consisted of six bulls; four of them were full grown, 
first-rate elephants ; the other two were fine fellows, but had not 
yet arrived at perfect stature. 

5. Of the four old fellows, two had much finer tusks than the 
rest ; and, for a few seconds, I was undecided which of these two 
I would follow ; when, suddenly, the one which I fancied had the 
stoutest tusks broke from his comrades, and I at once felt con- 
vinced that he was the patriarch of the herd, and followed him 
accordingly. 

6. Cantering along-side, I was about to fire, when he instantly 
turned, and, uttering a trumpet so strong and shrill that the earth 
seemed to vibrate beneath my feet : he charged furiously after me 
for several hundred yards in a direct line, not altering his course 
in the slightest degree for the trees of the forest, which he snapped 
and overthrew like reeds in his headlong career. 

V. When he pulled up in his charge, I likewise halted ; and, as 
he slowly turned to retreat, I let fly at his shoulder, " Sunday" 
capering and prancing, and giving me much trouble. On receiv- 
ing the ball, the elephant shrugged his shoulder, and made off at 
a free, majestic walk. This shot brought several of the dogs to my 
assistance which had been following the other elephants ; and, on 
their coming up and barking, another headlong charge was the 
result, accompanied by the never-failing trumpet as before. 

8. In his charge he passed close to me, when I saluted him with 
a second bullet in the shoulder, of which he did not take the slight- 
est notice. I now determined not to fire again until I could make 



COBB'S SPEAKEE. 233 

a steady shot ; but, although the elephant turned repeatedly, 
" Sunday" invariably disappointed me, capering so that it was im- 
possible to fire. 

9. At length, exasperated, I became reckless of the danger, 
and, springing from the saddle, approached the elephant under 
cover of a tree, and gave him a bullet in the side of the head ; 
when, trumpeting so shrilly that the forest trembled, he charged 
among the dogs, from which he seemed to fancy that the blow 
had come ; after which he took up a position in a grove of thorns, 
with his head towards me. 

10. I walked up very near; and, as he was in the act of char- 
ging, (being in those days under wrong impressions as to the im- 
practicability of bringing down an elephant with a shot in the 
forehead,) stood coolly in his path until he was within fifteen 
paces of me, and let drive at the hollow of his forehead, in the 
vain expectation that by so doing I should end his career. The 
shot only served to increase his fury ; an effect which, I had re- 1 
marked, shots in the head invariably produced ; and, continuing 
his charge with incredible quickness and impetuosity, he all but 
terminated my elephant-hunting for ever. 

11. A large party of the Bechuanas who had come up, yelled 
out simultaneously, imagining I was killed ; for, the elephant was, 
at one moment, almost on the top of me : I, however, escaped by 
my activity, and by dodging around the bushy trees. As the 
elephant was charging, an enormous thorn ran deep into the sole 
of my foot, the old Badenoch brogues, which I that day sported, 
being worn through, and this caused me severe pain, laming me 
throughout the rest of the conflict. 

12. The elephant held on through the forest at a sweeping 
pace ; but he was hardly out of sight when I was loaded and in 
the saddle, and soon once more along-side. About this time I 
heard Isaac blazing away at another bull ; but when the elephant 
charged, his cowardly heart failed him, and he very soon made 
his appearance at a safe distance in my rear. My elephant kept 
crashing along at a steady pace, with blood streaming from his 



234 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

wounds ; the dogs, which were knocked up with fatigue and thirst, 
no longer barked around him, but had dropped astern. 

13. It was long before I again fired; for, I was afraid to dis- 
mount, and "Sunday" was extremely troublesome. At length, I 
fired sharp right and left from the saddle : he got both balls be- 
hind the shoulder, and made a long charge after me, rumbling 
and trumpeting as before. The whole body of the Bamangwato 
men had now come up, and were following a short distance be- 
hind me. 

14. Among these was Mollyeon, who volunteered to help ; and, 
being a very swift and active fellow, he rendered me important 
smice by holding my fidgety horse's head while I fired and 
loaded. I then fired six broadsides from the saddle, the elephant 
charging almost every time, and pursuing us back to the main 
body in our rear, who fled in all directions as he approached. 

15. The sun had now sunk behind the tops of the trees; it 
would very soon be dark, and the elephant did not seem much 
distressed, notwithstanding all he had received. I recollected that 
my time was short, and, therefore, at once resolved to fire no more 
from the saddle, but to go close up to him and fire on foot. 

16. Riding up to him, I dismounted, and, approaching very 
near, I gave it him right and left in the side of the head, upon 
which he made a long and determined charge after me ; but I 
was now very reckless of his charges, for I saw that he could not 
overtake me ; and, in a twinkling I was loaded, and, again ap- 
proaching, fired sharp right and left behind his shoulder. 

17. Again he charged with a terrific trumpet, which sent " Sun- 
day" flying through the forest. This was his last charge. The 
w T ounds which he had received began to tell on his constitution, 
and he now stood at bay beside a thorny tree, with the dogs 
barking around him. These, refreshed by the evening breeze, 
and perceiving that it was nearly over with the elephant, had 
once more come to my assistance. 

18. Having loaded, I drew near and fired right and left at his 
forehead. On receiving these shots, instead of charging, he tossed 
his trunk up and down, and by various sounds and motions, most 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 235 

gratifying to the hungry natives, evinced that his demise was 
near. 

19. Again I loaded, and fired my last shot behind his shoulder : 
on receiving it, he turned around the bushy tree beside which he 
stood, and I ran around to give him the other barrel, but the 
mighty old monarch of the forest needed no more ; before I could 
clear the bushy tree he fell heavily on his side, and his spirit had 
fled. My feelings at this moment can only be understood by a 
few brother NimrOds who have had the good fortune to enjoy a 
similar encounter. I never felt so gratified on any former occa- 
sion as I did then. 

20. By this time all the natives had come up ; they were in 
the highest spirits, and flocked around the elephant, laughing and 
talking at a rapid pace. I climbed on to him, and sat enthroned 
upon his side, which was as high as my eyes when standing on 
the ground. In a few minutes night set in, when the natives, 
having illuminated the jungle with a score of fires, and formed a 
semicircle of bushes to windward, lay down to rest without par- 
taking of a morsel of food. 

21. Mutchuisho would not allow a man an assagai into the 
elephant until the morrow, and placed two relays of sentries to 
keep watch on either side of him. My dinner consisted of a piece 
of flesh from the temple of the elephant, which I broiled on the 
hot embers. In the conflict I had lost my shirt, which was re- 
duced to streamers by the wait-a-bit thorns ; and, all the clothing 
that remained was a pair of buckskin knee-breeches. 



LESSON LXXXIV. 

PROOFS OF THE ROTUNDITY OF THE EARTH. MALTE-BRUN. 

1. The spherical form of the earth is the fundamental principle 
of geography. The proofs of this truth present themselves to 
the senses ; and they consist in certain remarkable appearances, 



236 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

either of objects upon the surface of the earth, or of the heavenly 
bodies. 

2. Why do towers, vessels, and mountains, when we recede 
from them, appear to sink below the horizon, commencing with 
the base; and why, oil the contrary, when we approach them, do 
these object* show first their summits, then their middle, and last 
of all their bases? These phenomena prove evidently that an 
apparent plane open the earth is b curve surface, and that it is the 
convexity of this surface which conceal- from the eye of the specta- 
tor upon the beach the hull of the vessel of which he sees the 
masts and sails. 

8. These things, too, happen uniformly towards whatever part 
of the earth we travel; whether towards the east or towards the 
wesi ; towards the north or towards the south : it is impossible, 
therefore, to avoid drawing the conclusion, that the whole surface 
of the earth is, on all sides, nearly regularly curved ; or, in other 
words, that the earth is a body approaching in figure more or less 
to a sphere. 

4. The same reference is deducible from an observation of the 
heavens. The polestar is that point in the heavens, which, itself 
alone immovable, appears to serve as a pivot to the apparent 
motions of the heavenly bodies. Now, if we proceed towards the 
north, we see the polestar take a position more elevated in the 
heavens, with regard to the horizon. If we go towards the south, 
this same star appears to sink, and others, before invisible, appear 
successively to rise. 

5. It is, therefore, impossible that the line whose direction we 
follow can be a straight line traced upon a horizontal plane ; it 
can only be a curve ; and, as the same change everywhere takes 
place, it is natural to conclude that the earth has at least a circu- 
lar form from north to south. The fact that the sun rises sooner 
to those who dwell more towards the east, and gradually later to 
others in proportion as they are removed to the west, proves that 
it is equally circular from east to west ; for, were it flat, the sun 
would begin to illuminate all parts of its surface at the same instant. 

6. Another most convincing proof is furnished by the eclipses 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 237 

of the moon. These eclipses are known to be caused by the 
earth's coming between the sun and moon, and intercepting or 
cutting off the supply of light from the sun which illuminates the 
moon's surface or disk ; the dark part of the moon's disk is, there- 
fore, nothing more than a representation of the earth's shadow at 
the distance of the moon. 

V. In whatever position the earth happens to be at the time of 
an eclipse, its shadow upon the moon's disk is always in the form 
of a circle or of part of a circle ; the earth must, therefore, be a 
sphere, since no other than a spherical body, in every position in 
which it can be placed with respect to another body giving light, 
can cast a circular shadow upon a third body. 

8. The numerous voyages which have been made around the 
world have finally shut the mouths of all those who persisted in 
regarding the earth as a round plane, or an hemispherical disk. 
Navigators, such as Magellan and Drake, sailing from Europe, 
have pursued a course always towards the west, (making only 
some deviations, in order to double the lands which stretch towards 
the south,) and without quitting this general direction, have re- 
turned to the same place whence they set out. 

9. Heemskerk, when he wintered at Nova Zembla, confirmed 
what astronomers had concluded from the spherical figure of the 
earth ; namely, that the days and nights near the poles extend to 
several months. Finally, Cook, in approaching as near as j>ossi- 
ble to the southern polar circle, found that the voyage around 
was always diminished proportionably to the diminution of his 
distance from_the pole ; so that we have thus obtained an ocular 
proof of the rotundity of the earth towards the south pole as well 
as towards the north. 

10. So many united proofs, as well as the accuracy of so many 
astronomical observations, all of which have been made and calcu- 
lated upon the supposition of the sphericity of our earth, leave no 
room for reasonable doubts upon the subject. In vain does 
ignorance demand of us how the earth can remain suspended in 
the air without any support. Let us look upon the heavens, and 
observe how many other globes roll in space. Let us then lay 



238 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

aside all uneasiness concerning the antipodes, that is, the people 
of the earth whose feet are turned towards ours : there is upon the 
globe neither high nor low ; the antipodes see, in like manner as 
we do, the earth under their feet, and the sky over their head-. 



LESSON LXXXV. 

THE RUINS OF TIME. MILFORD BARD. 

1. Where, now, Ls ancient Egypt, the land of science and sacred 
recollections ? Where are her thousand cities ; her Thebes, her 
Memphis, her oracle of Ammon ? The red arm of the Goth and 
the Vandal hath levelled them with the dust ; the serpent now in- 
habits the temple where the worshipper once bowed in adoration ; 
the oracle hath been silent for ages, and the priestess long since 
fled from her falling shrine. 

2. And where are the cloud-capt pyramids of Egypt, the won- 
der of the world ? Alas ! they still stand as mournful monuments 
of human ambition. But where are the kings who planned, and 
the millions of miserable slaves who erected them ? 

3. Gone down to the grave, and the rank weed waves over the 
sepulchre of their mouldering bones. And such shall be the fate 
of those pyramids which have stood for ages as the beacons of 
misguided ambition ; the wave of time shall roll over them, and 
bury them for ever in the general mausoleum of ages. Time, like 
Death, is an impartial conqueror. The monuments of genius and 
the arts fall alike before him in the path of his irresistible might. 
He hath uprooted the firm foundations of greatness and grandeur, 
and he hath desolated the gardens of oriental genius. 

4. Methinks I see him pointing with triumph to the tottering 
temples of Greece, and smiling at the ruins of Athens and Sparta, 
the home of that illustrious philosopher who gave learning to the 
imperial son of Philip, and where Solon and Lycurgus gave laws 
to the world. But these cities are in ruins ; their philosophers are 
dumb in death ; the academy, the porch, and the lyceum no longer 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 239 

resound with the doctrines of Plato, Zeno, and their illustrious 
competitors. Their fame alone has survived the general wreck. 
What a lesson is this for the growing empires of the earth ! 

5. Greece, the glory of the world, the bright luminary of learn- 
ing, liberty, and laws, prostrate in the dust ; her light of genius 
and the arts quenched in the long night of time ; her philosophers, 
heroes, statesmen, and poets, mingling with the fragments of her 
fallen grandeur. Go to the temple of Diana, at Ephesus, and the 
oracle of Delphos, and ask the story of her renown, the story of 
her dissolution. Alas ! that temple hath long since dissolved in a 
flood of flame, and the last echo of that oracle hath died on the 
lips of JEolus. But she fell not, before the flaming sword of 
Mahomet, without a struggle. 



LESSON LXXXVI. 



1. 'Twas night; and hoary Winter walked abroad, 

Howling like hungry wolves amid the wild ; 
Moon there was none ; and every star seemed awed, 

And shrinking, trembled like a frighted child ! 
Through all the woods the dreary snow was piled, 

Or like a shroud it lay, the ridged fold 
Showing the shape beneath ; above, beguiled 

By sorrow, swayed the pines ; through wood and wold 
The wild winds to and fro went sighing unconsoled. 

2. A cabin stood upon the wooded slope ; 

From many a crevice fitful firelight streamed, 
Making the blackness denser, like the hope 

Which from the settler's broken spirit gleamed, 



240 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

Only to show the dark ! then, where it beamed, 
Died, leaving all its ashes on his heart 1 

And now he gazed into the fire and dreamed 

Of home, of native mountains wrapped apart, 
The village and afar the large and steepled mart. 

3. He saw the haze lay o'er the landscape green, 

Where, like a happy thought, the streamlet flowed 
The fields of waring gran and groves between. 

Afar the white and winding turnpike glowed, 
The peopled coach rolled down the dusty road, 

The shining cattle through the pasture grazed; 
And all the air seemed trembling with a load 

Of melody, by birds and children raised : 
But now, a voice ; a groan ; he started ; stood amazed. 

4. Hark ! was 't the wind which eddied round the place, 

Or mournful trees by wailing tempests tossed ? 
Or was "t a moan from that pale, wasted face 

Which from the bed gleamed like a sleeping ghost ? 
Or Hunger worrying Slumber from his post 

Amid the little ones ? He only heard 
The heave of breasts which unknown dreams had crossed, 

Such dreams as stir the lips but make no word, 
And heard his own heart beat like an o'er-wearied bird ! 

5. A noise ; a tramp amid the crisping snow, 

Startled his ear ! A large, imploring eye 
Gleamed at the window with unearthly glow ! 

Was 't the grim panther which had ventured nigh ? 
Or ghost condemned, or spirit of the sky ? 

To grasp the gun his hand contained no force, 
His arm fell trembling and he knew not why ! 

He ope'd the door ; there stood a shivering horse, 
While clung upon his mane a stiff and muffled corse. 






COBB'S SPEAKER. 241 

Oh, Death ! who calls thy aspect terrible ? 

Is 't he who gazes on the gentle maid 
Wrapped in her careful shroud ; for whom a knell 

Steals o'er the village like a twilight shade ; 
And on whose breast and in whose hands are laid 

White violets and lilies of the vale, 
Gems which bloom downward ? Or, like them arrayed, 

Beholds the child as its own pillow pale, 
And hears the father's groan and mother's piercing wail ? 

Who calls thy aspect terrible ? Do they 

Who gaze on brows the lightning stoops to scath ? 
Or darker still, on those who fall a prey 

To jealousy's unsmotherable wrath ? 
Or they who walk in War's ensanguined path 

And hear the prayers and curses of distress ? 
These call thy aspect terrible ! Oh, Death ! 

More terrible, by far, let those confess, 
The frozen rider in that frozen wilderness ! 



LESSON LXXXVII. 

CHARACTER OF THE IRISH PATRIOTS OF 1*798. S. D. LANGTREE. 

1. Never was there an array of purer moral worth, of stronger 
genius, of more elevated talent, and more unsullied integrity, than 
the men who appeared in the nation's van in that hopeless but 
immortal cause, and planned, and all but conducted to the complete 
success, the most gigantic conspiracy of which we have any record 
in the world. Of these patriots, and their unhonored memories 
will have justice yet, the great majority perished on the scaffold ; 
and never, surely, was there a hecatomb of greater virtue offered 
at the shrine of startled despotism. 

2. Others, banished from their native soil, found refuge in dis- 

11 



242 COBB'S Si'EAK SB, 

tant lands, and in tin- blended Lustre of their character and talent , 
there giving an effulgent evidence of what must have been the 
brightness of the constellation of which tiny were but the scattered 
stars, had it ever attained its zenith. And others of them, after 
wasting their morning prime in dungeon damps, still live in their 
native land, illustrating in the influence of their spotless lives, the 
purity of the principles they professed. 

3. Among them, the gifted and accomplished Teeling who, 
after losing a father and a brother, and a princely fortune, in the 
cause, still remains to do honor to the calumniated creed of Ids 
compatriots by his character, and to rescue their insulted memories 
by his talents, not less adorning private life than honoring public 
principle, and winning even from admiring opponents, for enemies 
he has none, the warmest cordiality of respect, 

4. But the haze of madness will not last forever, and the period 
is approaching fast, when those terrible times will be honored and 
described, and perhaps revenged, as they ought; for history, fruit- 
ful as it is in example, never exhibited in all its fearful conn 
change more marked than the present state of the British empire, 
as compared with that appalling period. How strongly now will 
the prophetic words of the poet of patriotism apply ; 

" Weep on, perhaps in after day9 
They'll learn to love your name, 
And many a deed shall wake to praise 
That now must sleep in blame." 

5. Yes, now, when the whole British nation, with the British 
monarch at their head, have recorded their approval before the 
world, and adopted those very principles, for adhering to whir]], 
not forty years before, Harvey, Bond, Fitzgerald, Teeling, and a 
host of others, were branded by relentless power with the traitor's 
name, and suffered the traitor's death ; now, what measure of 
retrospective justice should be dealt out upon the actors in that 
bloody tragedy, and what honors should be paid to those victims 
of a darker age ! 

6. Walks there now no titled miscreant abroad, whom the late 






COBB'S SPEAKER. 243 

events in England will brand, before lie goes to bis great account, 
with tbe murderer's name and tbe murderer's sin ? Yes, sleep on, 
calumniated men ; justice bas been done, your characters stand 
redeemed, your motives unaspersed, and in tbe constitution of 
1832, tbe British nation bave erected a moral cenotaph to your 
memory, prouder than eternal brass, on which is inscribed, in un- 
fading characters of historic light ; To the Martyrs of 1798. 

1. Let us dismiss this subject. How the heart expands with the 
reflection that these great events are the coming dawn of that day 
of brightness, when the accumulated miseries of six centuries of 
oppression will be wiped off and atoned, and that beautiful island, 
"redeemed, regenerated, and disinthralled," shall take the place 
among the nations of the earth which God and nature have 
assigned. Then these victims of a tragic policy will not have died 
in vain ; and, future times shall take a pleasure in believing that 
the lamp of their liberation has been lighted at their tombs. 



LESSON LXXXVIII. 

THE ADVANTAGES OF A TASTE FOR THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE. 

PERCIVAL. 

1. That perception of, and sensibility to beauty, which, when 
cultivated and improved, we term taste, is most general and uni- 
form, with respect to those objects which are not liable to variation 
from accident, caprice, or fashion. The verdant lawn, the shady 
grove, the variegated landscape, the boundless ocean, and the 
starry firmament, are contemplated with pleasure by every beholder. 

2. But the emotions of different spectators, though similar in 
kind, differ widely in degree ; for, to relish with full delight the 
enchanting scenes of nature, the mind must be incorrupted by 
avarice, sensuality, or ambition ; quick in her sensibilities, elevated 
in her sentiments, and devout in her affections. 

3. If this enthusiasm were cherished by every individual, in that 



244 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

degree which is consistent with the indispensable duties of his 
station, the felicity of human life would be considerably augmented, 
From this .source the refined and vivid pleasures of the imagina- 
tion are almost entirely < l«i i\ . « 1. The elegant arts <>we their 
ohoicesi beauties toa taste for the contemplation of nature. 

4. Painting and sculpture are express imitations <.f risible 
objects; and where would be the charms of poetry, if divested of 
the imagery and embellishments which -he borrows from rural 
Bcenesl Painters, statuaries, and ] K therefore, an- always am- 
bitious to acknowledge themselves the pupils of nature ; and, as 
their ^ki'l increases, they gro* more and more delighted with every 
view of the animal and vegetable world. 

;>. 'lli.' scenes of nature contribute powerfully to inspire that 
serenity which heightens their beauties, and is accessary to our 
full enjoyment of them. By a secret sympathy the soul catches 
the harmony which she contemplates; and the frame within 
assimilates itself to that without In this Btateofsweel composure, 
we became susceptible of virtuous impressions from almost every 
surrounding object Tin- patient "\ is viewed with generous com- 
placency ; th'- guileless Bheep with pity ; and the playful lamb 
with emotions of tenderness and love. 

6. We rejoice with the horse in his liberty and exemption from 
toil, while he ranges at large through enamelled pastures. We 
are charmed with the songs of birds, soothed with the buzz of in- 
sects, and pleased with the sportive emotions of fishes, because 
these are expressions of enjoyment ; and, having felt a common 
interest in the gratifications of inferior beings, we shall be no longer 
indifferent to their sufferings, or become wantonly instrumental in 
producing them. 

7. But the taste for natural beauty is subservient to higher pur- 
poses than those which have been enumerated. The cultivation of 
it not only refines and humanizes, but dignifies and exalts the affec- 
tions. It elevates them to the admiration and love of that Being, 
who is the author of all that is fair, sublime, and good, in the 
creation. Skepticism and irreligion are scarcely compatible with 
the sensibility of heart which arises from a just and lively relish 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 245 

of the wisdom, harmony, and order subsisting in the world around 
us. 

8. Emotions of piety must spring up spontaneously in the bosom 
that is in union with all animated nature. Actuated by this 
beneficial and divine inspiration, man finds a fane in every grove ; 
and, glowing with devout fervor, he joins his song to the universal 
chorus, or muses the praises of the Almighty in more expressive 
silence. 



LESSON LXXXIX. 

PROGRESS OF SOCIETY. DR. CHANNING. 

1. The happiest feature of our age is, the progress of the mass 
of the people in intelligence, self-respect, and all the comforts of 
life. What a contrast does the present form with past times ! 
Not many years ago, the nation was the property of one man, and 
all its interests were staked in perpetual games of war, for no end 
but to build up his family, or to bring new territories under his 
yoke. 

2. Society was divided into two classes, the high-born and the 
vulgar, separated from each other by a great gulf, as impassable 
as that between the saved and the lost. The people had no sig- 
nificance as individuals, but formed a mass, a machine, to be 
wielded at pleasure by their lords. 

3. In war, which was the great sport of the times, those brave 
knights, of whose prowess we hear, cased themselves and their 
horses in armor, so as to be almost invulnerable, while the common 
people on foot were left without protection, to be hewn in pieces or 
trampled down by their betters. Who, that compares the condi- 
tion of Europe a few ages ago, with the present state of the world, 
but must bless God for the change ? 

4. The grand distinction of modern times is, the emerging of 
the people from brutal degradation, the gradual recognition of 
their rights, the gradual diffusion among them of the means of 



246 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

improvement and happiness, the creation of a Dew power in the 

state; the power of the people. Lei 08 thank God for what lias 
been gained. Bui let na not think every thing gamed Let the 
people feel that they have only itarted in the race, 

5. What a vast amount of ignorance, intemperance, I 

sensuality, may still be found in our community! What a vast 
amount <»t* mind ■ pakied and lost ! When we think, that every 
house might be cheered by intelligence, disinterestedness, and re- 
finement, and then recollect in how many houses the higher pow- 
en and afiectionB of human nature are buried as in tombs, what a 
darkneee gathers over society! 

6. And how few of us are moved by this moral desolation ! 
How few understand, that to raise the depressed by a wise cul- 
ture, to the dignity of man, i^ the highest end of the social state ! 
Shame on us, that the worth of a fellow-creature is so little felt. 
Would that I could speak with an awakening voice to the people 
of their wants, their privileges, their responsibilities. 

7. I would say to them, You can not, without guilt and dis- 
grace, stop where you are. The past and the present call on you 
to advance. Let what you have gained, be an impulse to some- 
thing higher. Your nature is too great to be crushed. You were 
not created what you are, merely to toil, eat, drink, and sleep, like 
the inferior animals. 

8. If you will, you can rise. No power in society, no hardship 
in your condition, can depress you, or keep you down in knowl- 
edge, power, virtue, influence, but by your owm consent. Do not 
be lulled to sleep by the flatteries which you hear, as if your par- 
ticipation in the national sovereignty made you equal to the no- 
blest of your race. 

9. You have many and great deficiencies to be remedied ; and 
the remedy lies, not in the ballot-box, not in the exercise of your 
political powers, but in the faithful education of yourselves and 
your children. These truths you have often heard and slept over. 
Awake ! Resolve earnestly on self-culture. Make yourselves wor- 
thy of your free institutions, and strengthen and perpetuate them 
by your intelligence and your virtues. 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 247 

LESSON XC, 

BATTLE OF WARSAW. CAMPBELL. 

1. When leagued Oppression poured to northern wars 
Her whiskered pandoors and her fierce hussars, 
Waved her dread standard to the breeze of morn, 
Pealed her loud drum, and twanged her trumpet-horn ; 
Tumultuous horror brooded o'er her van, 
Presaging wrath to Poland, and to man ! 

2. Warsaw's last champion, from her height surveyed, 
Wide o'er the fields, a waste of ruin laid ; 

Oh ! Heaven ! he cried, my bleeding country save ! 
Is there no hand on high to shield the brave ? 
Yet, though Destruction sweep these lovely plains, 
Rise, fellow-men ! Our country yet remains ! 
By that dread name we wave the sword on high ! 
And swear for her to live ! with her to die ! 

3. He said, and on the rampart-heights arrayed 
His trusty warriors, few, but undismayed ; 
Firm-paced, and slow, a horrid front they form, 
Still as the breeze, but dreadful as the storm ; 
Low, murmuring sounds, along their banners fly ; 
Revenge, or death ; the watchword and reply : 
Then pealed the notes, omnipotent to charm, 
And the loud tocsin tolled their last alarm ! 

4. In vain, alas ! in vain, ye gallant few ! 

From rank to rank your volleyed thunder flew : 
Oh ! bloodiest picture in the book of Time, 
Sarmatia fell, unwept, without a crime ; 
Found not a generous friend, a pitying foe, 
Strength in her arms, nor mercy in her wo ! 



248 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

Dropped from her nerveless grasp the shattered spear, 
Closed her bright eye, and curbed her high career; 
Hope, for a season, bade the world farewell, 
And Freedom shrieked, as Kosciusko fell ! 

5. Tlir sun went down, nor ceased the carnage t 1 
Tumultuous murder shook the midnight air; 
On Prague's proud arch the fires of E&uiu glow, 
His blood-dyed waters murmuring Bar below; 
The storm prevails, the ramparl yields away, 
Bursts the wild cry of horror and dismay ! 
Hark! as the smouldering piles with thunder fall, 
A thousand Bhrieks for hopeless mercy call I 
Earth shook ; red meteors Sashed along the sky, 
And conscious Nature shuddered at the cry ! 

G. Departed spirits of the mighty dead! 
Ye that at Marathon and Leuctra bled! 
Friends of the world ! restore your .-words to man, 
Fight in his sacred cause, and lead the van! 

Ye! far Sarmatia's tears of bl I atone, 

And make her arm puissant as your own ! 

Oh ! once again to Pr loin's cause return, 

The patriot Tell ; the Bruce of Bannockburn. 



LESSON XCL 

NORTH AMERICAN INDIANS. JOSEPH STORY. 

1. There is, indeed, in the fate of the unfortunate Indians, much 
to awaken our sympathy, and much to disturb the sobriety of our 
judgment ; much which may be urged to excuse their own atroci- 
ties ; much in their character which betrays us into an involuntary 
admiration. What can be more melancholy than their history. 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 249 

2. By a law of their nature, they seem destined to a slow, but 
sure extinction. Every where, at the approach of the white man, 
they fade away. We hear the rustling* of their footsteps, like that 
of the withered leaves of autumn, and they are gone for ever. 
They pass mournfully by us, and they return no more. 

3. Two centuries ago, the smoke of their wigwams and the fires 
of their councils rose in every valley from Hudson's Bay to the 
farthest Florida ; from the ocean to the Mississippi and the lakes. 
The shouts of victory and the war dance rang through the moun- 
tains and the glades. The thick arrows and the deadly tomahawk 
whistled through the forests ; and the hunter's trace, and the dark 
encampment, startled the wild beasts in their lairs. 

4. The warriors stood forth in their glory. The young listened 
to the songs of other days. The mothers played with their infants, 
and gazed on the scene with warm hopes of the future. The aged 
sat down ; but they wept not. They should soon be at rest in fairer 
regions, where the Great Spirit dwelt in a home, prepared for the 
brave beyond the western skies. Braver men never lived ; truer 
men never drew the bow. They had courage, and fortitude, and 
sagacity, and perseverance, beyond most of the human race. They 
shrank from no dangers, and they feared no hardships. 

5. If they had the vices of savage life, they had the virtues 
also. They were true to their country, their friends, and their 
homes. If they forgave not injury, neither did they forget kindness. 
If their vengeance was terrible, their fidelity and generosity were 
unconquerable also. Their love, like their hate, stopped not on 
this side of the grave. 

6. But where are they ? Where are the villages, and warriors, 
and youth ? The sachems and the tribes ? The hunters and their 
families ? They have perished. They are consumed, the wasting 
pestilence has not alone done the mighty work. No ; nor famine, 
nor war. There has been a mightier power, a moral canker, 
which hath eaten into their heart-cores ; a plague, which the touch 
of the white man communicated ; a poison, which betrayed them 
into a fingering ruin. 

7. The winds of the Atlantic fan not a single region which they 

11* 



250 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

may now call their own. Already the lasl feeble remnants of the 
race are preparing for their journey beyond the Mississippi. I see 
them leave their miserable homes; the aged, the linljJri, the 
•women, and the warriors, "few and faint, yet fearless still." The 

ashes are cold on their Dative hearths. The smoke no longer curls 
around their lowly cabins. 

8. They move on with a slow, unsteady step. The white man 
is upon their heels, far terror or despatch ; but they heed him not. 
They turn to take a last look of their deserted villages. The\ 

a last glance upon the graves of their fathers. They shed do 
tears; they otter no cries ; they heave no groans. There is some- 
thing in their hearts which passes speech. There is something in 
their looks, not of vengeance, or submission, but of hard nee 
which stifles both; which chokes all utterance; which has no 
aim or method. 

9. It is courage absorbed in despair. They linger but for a 
moment. Their look is onward. They have passed the fatal 
stream. It shall never be repassed by them: no, never. Yet 
there lies not between us and them an impassable gulf. They 
know, and feci, that there is for them still one remove farther, not 
distant nor unseen. It is to the general burial ground of their 
race. 

10. Reason as we may, it is impossible not to read, in such a 
fate, much that we know not how to interpret; much of provoca- 
tion to cruel deeds and deep resentments ; much of apology for 
wrong and perfidy ; much of pity mingling with indignation ; 
much of doubt and misgivings as to the past ; much of painful 
recollections ; much of dark foreboding. Philosophy may tell us, 
that conquest in other cases has adopted the conquered into its 
own bosom, and thus, at no distant period, given them the com- 
mon privileges of subjects ; but that the red men are incapable 
of such an assimilation. 

11. By their very nature and character they can neither unite 
themselves with civil institutions, nor with safety be allowed to re- 
main as distinct communities. The question, therefore, is necessa- 
rily reduced to the consideration, whether the country itself shall 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 251 

be abandoned by civilized men, or maintained by bis sword as the 
right of the stronger. It may be so ; perhaps, in the wisdom of 
Providence, it must be so. I pretend not to comprehend, or solve 
such weighty difficulties. 

12. But neither philosophy nor policy can shut out the feelings 
of nature. Humanity must continue to sigh at the constant sacri- 
fices of this bold, but wasting race. And Religion, if she may not 
blush at the deed, must, as she sees the successive victims depart, 
cling to the altar with a drooping heart, and mourn over a destiny 
without hope and without example. 



LESSON XCII. 



PROPELLING POWERS EMPLOYED BY MAN. EXTRACT FROM MR. 

EWBANK's ANNUAL REPORT, AS COMMISSIONER OP PATENTS, 
ON THE HISTORY AND PROGRESS OF INVENTION. 1850. 

1. Take up man's biography where we will, the first page opens 
with him roaming the forest ; an untutored animal, preying upon 
inferior tribes as they prey upon each other. He knows no force 
but his own, dreams not of employing any, and hence is his own 
servant in every thing. 

2. By and by, as game becomes shy and scarce, he ekes out 
means of living by cultivating a patch of m audi via or maize ; 
using a stake for a plough, and a shell for a sickle. In this con- 
dition, properties of some of the elementary machines unfold them- 
selves, as those of the wedge, inclined plane, and lever. In his 
club he realizes those of the hammer, which has claims to a place 
among them. Still, he remains a wild man, a savage. 

3. While there is a wide disparity between man's muscular 
power and the requirements of civilization, there is an observable 
proportion between it and his wants as an unreclaimed animal. 
The required outlay to procure the first necessaries is neither too 
much nor too little. In the savage and semi-savage condition he 



252 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

has strength to build a hut, hunt, dig, plant, and reap a sufficiency 
for himself and family; but had these essentia] taski required 
double the labor that they do, the race would have sunk under it 
ere the art of calling in foreign aid had been acquired. 

4. On the other hand, if food, clothing, and fuel had been at- 
tainable with half tin- exertion, indolence and every evil passion 
would have prevailed : hence, the wisdom of Providence in forbid- 
ding the earth to yield tin- means of existence, except in return for 
such an expenditure of labor as would train him in the first stages 
of his career to habite of industry, and prepare him for disciplining 
higher faculties by another Bpeciea of activity, 

5. It is true, the amount of indispensable labor differs in differ- 
ent parts of the earth. In the Torrid Zone, the >"il is prolific, 
fruits are perennial, and in rich abundance, little is required for 
shelter and less for clothing ; an equalizing principle is, however, 
every where apparent. There men are less able to work, and their 
energies are sooner exhausted than in temperate climes, hut exer- 
tion is inevitable. They also are forced to labor in order to live. 

6. In the next stage he plants more and hunts less. The social 
qualities of his being open, and higher views of existence flit be- 
fore him. His hut in the woods is abandoned for the village 
cabin. Primitive manufacturers arise, improve, and multiply. 
Agriculture is more and more appreciated, and with increasing 
demands for it, the value of labor is felt ; he wants more than he 
has ; human strength is not great, and is soon exhausted ; in his 
need he reflects, and reflection brings help. 

7. There are quadrupeds stronger than he, and of greater en- 
durance ; why should they idle away their existence, and he be 
compelled to daily toil ? Why not make some of them work for 
him ? Thus he reasons, and, according to climate and other exi- 
gencies, acts. Hence, Laplanders yoke reindeer, and Esquimaux 
dogs to their sledges. The Arab early seized the dromedary and 
camel as his drudges, and other people the ox. The slender 
Hindoo and the Malay bring in the elephant from his native jungles 
for the same purpose. Finally, the horse, mule, and ass were added 
to the list, and the era of Animal Forces exhibited in relief. 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 253 

8. Other creatures were also educated for man's profit or pleas- 
ure in a less general way. Goats and dogs were trained to climb 
in tread-wheels, and bears were broken into the same kind of labor 
by Scandinavian tribes. Then there was hawking, leopard-bunt- 
ing, and fishing with cormorants, as still practised by the Chinese. 
Old Egyptians taught baboons to gather fruit from precipices and 
trees inaccessible to man. The Chinese still employ them, and 
monkeys, at similar work. 

9. From the excess of power with which some animals are en- 
dowed, it may be inferred that they were designed to serve as co- 
laborers with man. Were this not so, it would be difficult to as- 
sign the reason why the larger quadrupeds, that have been domes- 
ticated, possess a surplus of strength far beyond what their natural 
emergencies require, while to us, we who stand in the greatest 
need of it, so small a share has been given. 

10. As all active forces on the globe are derived from bodies 
living, or inert, it was Nature's suggestion first to turn to the larger 
quadrupeds ; the most decided step this towards civilization ! In 
what a lamentable state would our species be now, had it yet to 
be taken ! From the comparative docility of despotism, herbiv- 
orous tribes were properly selected. 

11. The power exercised by man over animals is one of the 
most remarkable episodes in his history. It is miraculous, but, 
like other miracles, having become familiar, it ceases to surprise. 
They are plastic almost as clay in his hands ; for, he models them 
as his fancy and wishes suggest. Selecting some as laborers, he 
adds muscle and bone, or withdraws them as strength or speed is 
required. 

12. Thus, he produces race and draught-horses from one stock, 
and works equal changes in porcine, bovine, ovine, and canine 
families. Of fowls ; take pigeons for example ; their figures are so 
far under his control that he multiplies varieties till every apparent 
affinity with the original is lost ; their colors, too, producing spots 
where he pleases, or, as the professional expression is, " breeding 
these birds to a feather." 

13. Large numbers of animals are employed as chemical manip- 



254 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

ulators for the production of such substances as he finds useful 
for his purposes, and which he compels them to yield in larger 
quantities than they would or could give out without him. He 
controls the qualities of these products also ; eliciting in i 
constituent elements that he most desir< 

14. Of insects he keeps myriads at work as confectioners ; other 
tribes as spinners, and others again as druggists, to supply him 
with dyes. We may boast of interesting compounds which 
modern chemistry has furnished; but, what arc they compared to 
the products of these living laboratories; laboratories the most 
valuable of which lit.' has improved and multiplied, and will, until 
analogous results, at a cheaper rate, are obtained from artificial 
apparatus. 

15. Had nothing been told us of ancient American Arts, we 
might have inferred the amount of refinement pervading Chili and 
Peru from one fact alone; the employment of the Llama as a 
beast of burden, the only one within reach ; a step this, which 
tribes wholly untutored never took. 

16. The aborigines of the North had the bison ; and, in the 
proportion that its strength exceeds that of the Arabian Camel, 
would they have excelled their Austral kindred, had they broken 
it to the yoke. They neglected to improve the talent committed 
to their charge, and are compelled to make way for those who will. 
The bison for unknown ages has been used in tilling the soils of 
Asia and Africa ; had our Indians pressed it into the same service 
here, they would not now be as fugitives and vagabonds in the 
land of their fathers. 

17. The vast multitude of bisons slain yearly, the ceaseless war 
carried on against them, if continued, threatens their extermination, 
and must hereafter cause deep regret. It has been remarked, that 
every addition a country receives from art tends to drive away 
animals fitted only to flourish in a state of nature ; but here, in the 
absence of art, the very agents to introduce it, creatures adapted 
above all others to human servitude, are wantonly destroyed. 

18. Their great strength and docility when tamed, and their 
capacity for being drilled to the yoke, ought surely to put some 



COBB'S SPEAKEK. 255 

limit to their wholesale butchery. Savages kill them for food, 
while men of another shade, who ought to know better, join in the 
slaughter for the pleasure of the hunt, and sometimes, it would 
seem, for material for a paragraph. 

19. But for this genus, it is doubtful if man had ever perma- 
nently emerged from the forest. As the first ordained and most 
profitable of his assistants for working the soil, it should never be 
said that the noblest of indigenous ruminants have become extinct. 
As predial laborers, they belong to the most precious of quadru- 
pedal existences ; and, viewed in that character alone, their wanton 
destruction should be arrested. 

20. Reproductive locomotive engines, they offer a power avail- 
able to turn the wildernesses and prairies they inhabit into corn- 
fields and gardens. " Onward !" is the standing order of God. 
Those who refuse to obey must be pushed aside; such is the 
inflexible fiat of heaven. They who prostrate their judgment to 
then* sympathies, are at a loss to reconcile the melting of the red 
race and the seizure of their lands by the whites, with a superin- 
tendino: Providence. 



LESSON XCIII. 

THE WRECK. MRS. HEMANS. 

1. All night the booming minute gun 

Had pealed along the deep, 
And mournfully the rising sun 

Looked o'er the tide-worn steep. 
A bark from India's coral strand, 

Before the raging blast, 
Had veiled her topsails to the sand, 

And bowed her noble mast. 



256 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

2. The queenly ship ! brave hearts had striven, 

And trile ones died with her; 
We saw her mighty cable riven, 

Like float uner. 

We saw her proud flag struck that morn, 

A star once o'er the seas, 
Her anchor gone, her deck uptorn, 

And sadder tilings than these. 

3. We saw her treasures cast away; 

The rocks with pearls were sown, 
And, strangely Bad, the ruby's ray 
Flashed out o'er fretted stone. 

And gold was strown tin- wet sands o'er, 

Jake ashes by a breeze, 
And gorgeous robes : but oh ! that shore 

Had sadder things than these. 

4. We saw the strong man still and low, 

A crushed reed thrown aside ; 
Yet, by that rigid lip and brow, 

Not without strife he died. 
And near him, on the sea-weed lay : 

Till then we had not wept, 
But well our gushing hearts might say 

That there a mother slept. 

5. For her pale arms a babe had pressed, 

With such a wreathing grasp, 
Billows bad dashed o'er that fond breast, 

Yet not undone the clasp. 
Her very tresses had been flung, 

To wrap the fair child's form, 
Where still their wet long streamers clung 

All tangled by the storm. 






COBB'S SPEAKER. 257 

6. And beautiful, 'mid that wild scene, 

Gleamed up the boy's dead face, 
Like slumbers, trustingly serene, 

In melancholy grace. 
Deep in her bosom lay his head, 

With half shut violet eye : 
He had known little of her dread, 

Naught of her agony. 

7. Oh, human Love ! whose yearning heart, 

Through all things vainly true, 
So stamps upon thy mortal part 

Its passionate adieu. 
Surely thou hast another lot, 

There is some home for thee, 
Where thou shalt rest, remembering not 

The moaning of the sea ! 



LESSON XCIY. 

THE WINDS. MISS GOULD. 



1. We come ! we come ! and ye feel our might, 
As we're hastening on in our boundless flight, 
And over the mountains, and over the deep, 
Our broad, invisible pinions sweep 

Like the spirit of liberty, wild and free ! 
And ye look on our works, and own 'tis we ; 
Ye call us the Winds ; but can ye tell 
Whither we go, or where we dwell ? 

2. Ye mark, as we vary our forms of power, 
And fell the forest, or fan the flower ; 

When the harebell moves, and the rush is bent ; 
When the tower's o'erthrown, and the oak is rent 



258 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

As we wait the baik o'er the slumbering \\ 
Or hurry its crew to a watery grave ; 
And ye say it ifl wv ; bat can ye i 
The wand'ring Winds to their secret place? 

3. And, whether our breath be loud and high, 
Or come in a soft and balmy sigh, 

Our threat'ninge till the soul with fear, 
Or our gentle whisperings woo the 

With music aerial : still, 'tis We, 
And ye li-t, and ye look ; lmt what do ye see ? 
Can ye hush one sound of our voice to peace, 
Or waken one not,-, when our iramben ceai 

4. Our dwelling is in the Almighty's hand; 
We come and we go at His command. 
Though joy or sorrow may mark our track, 
His will is our guide, and we look not back: 
And if, in our wrath, ye would turn us away, 
Or win us in gentlest airs to play, 

Then lift up your hearts to Him who binds 
Or frees, as He will, the obedient Winds ! 



LESSON XCV. 

ADAMS AND NAPOLEON. WILLIAM H. SEWARD. 

1. Only two years after the birth of John Quincy Adams, there 
appeared on an island in the Mediterranean Sea, a Human Spirit, 
endowed with equal genius, without the regulating qualities of 
Justice and Benevolence which Adams possessed in such an 
eminent degree. 

2. A like career opened to both. Born, like Adams, a subject of 
a king ; the child of more genial skies, like him, became in early 
life a patriot and a citizen of a new and great republic. Like 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 259 

Adams, he lent his service to the State in precocious youth, and 
its hour of need, and won its confidence. But unlike Adams, he 
could not wait the dull delays of slow and laborious, but sure 
advancement. 

3. He sought power by the hasty road that leads through fields 
of carnage, and he became, like Adams, a Supreme Magistrate, a 
Consul. But there were other Consuls. He was not content. 
He thrust them aside, and was Consul alone. Consular power 
was too short ; he fought new battles, and was Consul for life. 

4. But power, confessedly derived from the people, must be 
exercised in obedience to their will, and must be resigned to them 
again, at least in death. He was not content. He desolated 
Europe afresh, subverted the republic, imprisoned the patriarch 
who presided over Rome's comprehensive See, and obliged him to 
pour on his head the sacred oil that made the persons of kings 
divine, and their right to reign indefeasible. He was an Emperor. 

5. But he saw around him a mother, brothers and sisters, not 
ennobled, whose humble state reminded him and the world that 
he was born a plebeian. He had no heir to wait impatient for the 
imperial crown. He scourged the earth again and again. For- 
tune smiled on him even in his wild extravagance. He bestowed 
kingdoms and principalities on his kindred ; put away the devoted 
wife of his youthful days, and another, a daughter of Hapsburg's 
imperial house, joyfully accepted the proud alliance. 

6. Offspring gladdened his anxious sight ; a diadem was placed 
on his infant's brow, and it received the homage of princes even 
in its cradle. Now he was indeed a monarch ; a legitimate 
monarch ; a monarch by divine appointment ; the first of an end- 
less succession of monarchs. But there were other monarchs who 
held sway in the earth. He was not content. He would reign 
with his kindred alone. He gathered new and greater armies 
from his own land, from subjugated lands. He called forth the 
young and the brave, one from every household ; from the Pyrenees 
to the Zuyder Zee; from Jura to the ocean. He marshalled 
them into long and majestic columns, and went forth to seize that 
universal dominion, which seemed almost within his grasp. 



260 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

7. But ambition had tempted fortune too far. Tin- nations of 
the earth resisted, rebelled, punned, and Burrounded him, The 
pageant was ended. The crown fell from his preaiimptuoua head. 
The wife who had wedded him in hia pride, forsook him when 
fear came upon him. J lis child was ravished from his sight Bis 
kinsmen were degraded to their first estate, and In; w;i> no l< 
Emperor, nor Consul, nor General, nor even a eitiaen, but an exile 
and a prisoner OH a lonely island in the midst of the wild At- 
lantic 

8. Discontent attended him there. The wayward man fretted 
out a few lonely yean of hia yei unbroken manhood, looking off, 
at the earliest dawn and the evening's twilight, towards that dis- 
tant world that bad only just eluded hia grasp. lli> bean < cor- 
roded. Death came, not unloosed for, though it came, even then, 
unwelcome, lie was stretched on the bed within the fort which 
constituted the prison, a few feat and faithful friends stood around 
him, with the guards who rejoiced that the hour of ivlief, from 
long and wearied watching, was at hand. 

9. As his strength wasted away, delirium stirred up the brain 
from its long and inglorious inactivity. The pageant of ambition 
returned. He was again a Lieutenant and a General, a Consul, 
an Emperor of France. He filled again the throne of Charle- 
magne. His kindred pressed around him, again invested with the 
pompous pageantry of royalty. The daughter of the long line of 
kings again stood proudly by his side, and the sunny face of his 
child shone out from beneath the diadem that encircled its flowing 
locks. The marshals of the empire waited his command. 

1 0. The legions of the Old Guard were in the field, and their 
scarred faces rejuvenated, and their ranks, thinned in many battles, 
replenished. Russia, Prussia, Austria, Denmark, and England, 
gathered their mighty hosts to give him battle. Once more he 
mounted his impatient charger, and rushed forth to conquest. He 
waved his sword aloft, and cried, " Tete d' Armee !" The feverish 
vision broke, the mockery was ended. The silver cord was loosed, 
and the warrior fell back upon his bed a lifeless corpse. The 

CoRSICAN WAS NOT CONTENT ! 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 261 

LESSON XCVI. 

THE EFFECTS OF A DISSOLUTION OF THE FEDERAL UNION. 

HAMILTON. 

1. Assuming it, therefore, as an established truth, that, in case 
of disunion the several states, or such combinations of them as 
might happen to be formed out of the wreck of the general con- 
federacy, would be subject to those vicissitudes of peace and war, 
of friendship and enmity with each other, which have fallen to 
the lot of all other nations not united under one government, let 
us enter into a concise detail of some of the consequences that 
would attend such a situation. 

2. War between the states, in the first periods of their separate 
existence, would be accompanied with much greater distresses 
than it commonly is in those countries where regular military 
establishments have long obtained. The disciplined armies always 
kept on foot on the continent of Europe, though they bear a ma- 
lignant aspect to liberty and economy, have, notwithstanding, 
been productive of the singular advantage of rendering sudden 
conquests impracticable, and of preventing that rapid desolation 
which used to mark the progress of war prior to their introduction. 

3. The art of fortification has contributed to the same ends. 
The nations of Europe are encircled with chains of fortified places, 
which mutually obstruct invasion. Campaigns are wasted in re- 
ducing two or three fortified garrisons, to gain admittance into an 
enemy's country. Similar impediments occur at every step, to 
exhaust the strength and delay the progress of an invader. 

4. Formerly, an invading army would penetrate into the heart 
of a neighboring country almost as soon as intelligence of its 
approach would be received; but now, a comparatively small 
force of disciplined troops, acting on the defensive, with the aid of 
posts, is able to impede, and finally to frustrate, the purposes of 
one much more considerable. The history of war in that quarter 
of the globe is no longer a history of nations subdued and empires 
overturned ; but of towns taken and retaken, of battles that de- 



262 COBB'S SPEAKKi;. 

cide nothing, of retreats more beneficial than victories, of much 

effort and little acquisition. 

5. In this oountrj the Boene would be altogether reversed. The 
jealousy of military establishments would postpone them as bag 
at possible. The want of fortifications, leaving the frontier of one 
state open to another, would facilitate inroads. The populous 
states would with little difficulty overrun tln-ir l«*>s populous 
neighbors. Conquests would I"- ss easy to be made as difficult to 
be retained. War, therefore, would be desultory and predatory. 
Plunder and devastation ever march in the train of irregulars. 
The calamitio of individual would ever make the principal figure 
in events, and would characterize our exploits, 

G. This picture is n«»t too highly wrought ; though, I confess, it 
would not long remain a just one. Safety from external danger 
is the most powerful director of national conduct, liven the ar- 
dent love of liberty will, after a time, give way to its dictates. 
The violent destruction of life and property incident to war, the 
continual effort and alarm attendant on a state of continual dan- 
ger, will compel nations the most attached to liberty to resort for 
repose and security, to institutions which have a tendency to de- 
stroy their civil and political rights. To be more safe, they would, 
at length, become willing to run the risk of being less free. 

1. The institutions chiefly alluded to are STANDI X< I ARMIES, 
and the corresponding appendages of military establishments. 
Standing armies, it is said, are not provided against in the new 
constitution ; and it is thence inferred that they would exist under 
it. This inference, from the very form of the proposition, is at best 
problematical and uncertain. But standing armies, it may be re- 
plied, must inevitably result from a dissolution of the confederacy. 
Frequent war and constant apprehension, which require a state of 
as constant preparation, will infallibly produce them. 

8. The weaker states or confederacies would first have recourse 
to them, to put themselves on an equality with their more potent 
neighbors. They would endeavor to supply the inferiority of 
population and resources by a more regular and effective system of 
defence, by disciplined troops, and by fortifications. They would, at 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 263 

the same time, be obliged to strengthen the executive arm of 
government ; in doing which their constitutions would require a 
progressive direction towards monarchy. It is the nature of war 
to increase the executive, at the expense of the legislative authority. 

9. The expedients which have been mentioned would soon give 
the states or confederacies that made use of them, a superiority 
over their neighbors. Small states, or states of less natural strength, 
under vigorous governments, and with the assistance of disciplined 
armies, have often triumphed over large states, or states of greater 
natural strength, which have been destitute of these advantages. 

10. Neither the pride nor the safety of the important states or 
confederacies, would permit them long to submit to this mortifying 
and adventitious superiority. They would quickly resort to means 
similar to those by winch it had been effected, to re-instate them- 
selves in their lost pre-eminence. Thus we should, in a little time, 
see established in every part of this country the same engines of 
despotism which have been the scourge of the old world. 

11. This, at least, would be the natural course of things ; and 
our reasonings will be likely to be just, in proportion as they are 
accommodated to this standard. These are not vague inferences, 
deduced from speculative defects in a constitution; the whole 
power of which is lodged in the hands of the people, or their 
representatives and delegates ; they are solid conclusions, drawn 
from the natural and necessary progress of human affairs. 



LESSON XCVII. 

PATRIOTISM AND ELOQUENCE OF JOHN ADAMS. WEBSTER. 

1. He possessed a bold spirit, which disregarded danger, and a 
sanguine reliance on the goodness of the cause and the virtues of 
the people, which led him to overlook all obstacles. His character, 
too, had been formed in troubled times. He had been rocked in 
the early storms of the controversy, and had acquired a decision 



26J: COBB'S SPEAKER. 

and a hardihood proportioned to the severity of the discipline irhieh 
lie had undergone. 

2. II<' not only Loved the American cause devoutly, but bad 
studied and understood it. II<- had tried hi> powers, on the ques- 
tions which it involved, often, and in various ways; and had 
brought to their consideration w hatever of argument or illustration 
the history of hi- own country, the history of England, or the 

of ancient or of Legal Learning, could furnish. I evance 

enumerated in the Long catalogue of the Declaration, had been the 
Bubjecl of his discussion, and the object of bis remonstrance and 
reprobation. 

3. Prom L760, the colonies, the rights of the colonies, the Lib- 
erties of the colonies, and the wrongs inflicted on the colonies, had 
engaged bis constant attention; and, it has surprised those who 
have h;i<l the opportunity of observing, with what full remem- 
brance, and with what prompt recollection, he could refer, in his 
extreme < >M age, to every act of parliament affecting the colonies, 
distinguishing and Btating their respective titles, sections, and pro- 
visions; and to all the colonial memorials, remonstrances, and pe- 
titions, with whatever else belonged to the intimate and exact his- 
tory of the time-, from that year to 1775. 

4. It was, in his own judgment, between these years, that the 
American people came to a full understanding and thorough 
knowledge of their rights, and to a fixed resolution of maintaining 
them ; and, bearing himself au active part in all important trans- 
actions, the controversy with England being then, in effect, the 
business of his life, facts, dates, and particulars made an impression 
which was never effaced. He was prepared, therefore, by educa- 
tion and discipline, as well as by natural talent and natural tem- 
perament, for the part which he was now to act. 

5. The eloquence of Mr. Adams resembled his general character, 
and formed, indeed, a part of it. It was bold, manly, and energetic ; 
and such the crisis required. When public bodies are to be 
addressed on momentous occasions, when great interests are at 
stake, and strong passions excited, nothing is valuable in speech, 
farther than it is connected with high intellectual and moral 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 265 

endowments. Clearness, force, and earnestness are the qualities 
which produce conviction. True eloquence, indeed, does not con- 
sist in speech. It can not be brought from far. Labor and learn- 
ing may toil for it, but they will toil in vain. Words and phrases 
may be marshalled in every way, but they can not compass it. 

6. It must exist in the man, in the subject, and in the occasion. 
Affected passion, intense expression, the pomp of declamation, all 
may aspire after it ; they can not reach it. It comes, if it come at 
all, like the outbreaking of a fountain from the earth, or the burst- 
ing forth of volcanic fires, with spontaneous, original, native force. 
The graces taught in the schools, the costly ornaments, and studied 
contrivances of speech, shock and disgust men, when their own 
lives, and the fate of their wives, their children, and their country, 
hang on the decision of the hour. Then words have lost their 
power, rhetoric is vain, and all elaborate oratory contemptible. 

7. Even genius itself then feels rebuked, and subdued, as in the 
presence of higher qualities. Then patriotism is eloquent ; then 
self-devotion is eloquent. The clear conception, out-running the 
deductions of logic ; the high purpose, the firm resolve, the daunt- 
less spirit, speaking on the tongue, beaming from the eye, inform- 
ing every feature, and urging the whole man onward, right onward 
to his object ; this, this is eloquence ; or, rather, it is something 
greater and higher than all eloquence ; it is action, noble, sub- 
lime, godlike action. 

8. In July, 11 *l 6, the controversy had passed the stage of argu- 
ment. An appeal had been made to force, and opposing armies 
were in the field. Congress, then, was to decide whether the tie 
which had so long bound us to the parent state, was to be severed 
at once, and severed for ever. All the colonies had signified their 
resolution to abide by this decision, and the people looked for it 
with the most intense anxiety. And surely, fellow-citizens, never, 
never were men called to a more important political deliberation. 

9. If we contemplate it from the point where they then stood, 
no question could be more full of interest ; if we look at it now, 
and judge of its importance by its effects, it appears in still greater 
magnitude. Let us, then, bring before us the assembly, which 

12 



260 COBB'S SPEAK BR. 

was about to decide a question thus big with the fata "1* empire. 
Let us open their doors, and look in upon their debberationt. Letf 
us survey the anxious and care-worn countenances, lei us beat 1 1 1* j 
firm-toned voices, of this hand of patriots. 

10. Hancock presides <>vi the solemn sitting; and, on 
those not yet prepared to pronounce foT absolute inde] 

on the Boor, and i> urging his reasons for dissenting from the 
Declaration. It was for Mr. A. lam- t°> reply to argument! like 
these. We know his opinions, and we know bis character, lie 
would commence, with his accustomed directness and earnestness, 

as we may BUppOSe, as follows : 

11. ''Sink or swim, live or die, survive or perish, I give my 

hand, and my heart, to this rote. It is true, indeed, that, in the 
beginning, we aimed not at independence. But there i> a j)i- 
vinity which shapes our ends. The injustice of England has driven 

us to arms; and. Minded to her own interest, for our good, she 
has obstinately persisted, till independence is now within our 
grasp. We have but to reach forth to it, and it i- ours. Why, 
then, should we defer the Declaration I Is any man so weak as 
now to hope for a reconciliation with England, which shall leave 
either safety to the country and its liberties, or safety to hil 
life, and his own honor I 

12. "Are you not, sir, who sit in that chair, is not he, our ven- 
erable colleague near you, are you not both already the proscribed 
and predestined objects of punishment and of vengeance ? Cut oft' 
from all hope of royal clemency, what are you, what can you be, 
while the power of England remains, but outlaws ? If we post- 
pone independence, do we mean to carry on, or to give up the 
war? Do we mean to submit to the measures of parliament, 
Boston port-bill and all ? Do we mean to submit, and consent 
that we ourselves shall be ground to powder, and our country and 
its rights trodden down in the dust ? 

13. "I know we do not mean to submit. We never shall submit. 
Do we intend to violate that most solemn obligation ever entered 
into by men, that plighting, before God, of our sacred honor to 
Washington, when, putting him forth to incur the dangers of war, 



COBB'S SPEAKEK. 267 

as well as the political hazards of the times, we promised to adhere 
to him, in every extremity, with our fortunes and our lives ? I 
know there is not a man here, who would not rather see a general 
conflagration sweep over the land, or an earthquake sink it, than 
one jot or tittle of that plighted faith fall to the ground. 

14. "For myself, having, twelve months ago, in this place, 
moved you that George Washington be appointed commander of 
the forces, raised or to be raised, for defence of American liberty, 
may my right hand forget her cunning, and my tongue cleave to 
the roof of my mouth, if I hesitate or waver in the support I give 
him. The war, then, must go on. We must fight it through. 
And if the war must go on, why put off longer the Declaration of 
Independence ? That measure will strengthen us. It will give us 
character abroad. The nations will then treat with us, which they 
never can do while we acknowledge ourselves subjects, in arms 
against our sovereign. 

15. " Nay, I maintain that England herself will sooner treat for 
peace with us on the footing of independence, than consent, by re- 
pealing her acts, to acknowledge that her whole conduct towards 
us has been a course of injustice and oppression. Her pride will 
be less wounded, by submitting to that course of things which 
now predestinates our independence, than by yielding the points 
of controversy to her rebellious subjects. The former, she would 
regard as the result of fortune ; the latter, she would feel as her 
own deep disgrace. Why then, why then, sir, do we not, as soon 
as possible, change this from a civil to a national war ? And, 
since we must fight it through, why not put ourselves in a state 
to enjoy all the benefits of victory, if we gain the victory ? 

16. "If we fail, it can be no worse for us. But we shall not 
fail. The cause will raise up armies ; the cause will create navies. 
The people, the people, if we are true to them, will cany us,, and 
will carry themselves, gloriously through this struggle. I care not 
how fickle other people have been found. I know the people of 
these colonies, and I know that resistance to British aggression is 
deep and settled in their hearts, and can not be eradicated. Every 



268 COBB'S B I'KA K E EL 

colony, indeed, has expressed it^ willingness to follow, if we but 
take the lead. 

17. "Sir, the Declaration will inspire the people with be* 
courage, [nstead of a long and bloody war for restoration of 
privileges, for redress of grievances, for chartered immunities, held 
under a British king, set before them the glorious object of entire 
independence, and it will breathe into them anew the breath of 
life. Read this Declaration at the bead of the army; 
sword will be drawn from its scabbard, and the solemn row ot- 
tered, to maintain it, or to perish on the bed of honor. 

18. "Publish it from the pnlpit; religion will approve it, and 
the love of religious Liberty will cling around it, resolved to stand 
with it, or fall with it. Bend it to the public halls; proclaim it 
there; let them hear it, who heard the firsl roar of the enemy's 
cannon; let them see it, who saw their brothers and their sons 
fall on the field of Bunker-hill, and in the Btreets of Lexington and 
Concord, and the rery walls will cry out in it- Bupport 

19. " sir. I know the uncertainty of human affiurs, bat I see, 1 
see clearly, through this day's business. Von and I, indeed, may 
rue it. We may not live to the time when this Declaration shall 
be made good. We may die; die, colonists ; die, slaves; die, it 
may be, ignommiously, and on the scaffold. 15«* it so. Be it bo. 
If it be the pleasure of Heaven thai my country shall require the 
poor offering of my life, the victim shall be ready, at the appointed 
hour of sacrifice, come when that hour may. But, while I do live, 
let me have a country, or at least the hope of a country, and that 
a free country. 

20. " But, whatever may be our fate, be assured, be assured, that 
this Declaration will stand. It may cost treasure, and it may cost 
blood ; but it will stand, and it will richly compensate for both. 
Through the thick gloom of the present, I see the brightness of the 
future, as the sun in heaven. We shall make this a glorious, an 
immortal day. When we are in our graves, our children will 
honor it. They will celebrate it with thanksgiving, with festivity, 
with bonfires and illuminations. 

21. "On its annual return they will shed tears, copious, gush- 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 269 

ing tears, not of subjection and slavery, not of agony and distress, 
but of exultation, of gratitude, and of joy. Sir, before God, I 
believe the hour is come. My judgment approves this measure, 
and my whole heart is in it. All that I have, and all that I am, 
and all that I hope in this life, I am now ready here to stake upon 
it ; and, I leave off, as I began, that, live or die, survive or perish, 
I am for the Declaration. It is my living sentiment, and, by the 
blessing of God, it shall be my dying sentiment ; independence 
now : and independence for ever." 



LESSON XCVIII. 



SPEECH OF THE SCYTHIAN AMBASSADORS TO ALEXANDER THE 
GREAT. QUINTUS CURTIUS. 

1. If your person were as gigantic as your desires, the world 
would not contain you. Your right hand would touch the east, 
and your left the west, at the same time. You grasp at more 
than you are equal to. From Europe you reach Asia ; from Asia 
you lay hold on Europe. And if you should conquer all mankind, 
you seem disposed to wage war with woods and snows, with rivers 
and wild beasts, and to attempt to subdue Nature. 

2. But have you considered the usual course of things ? Have 
you reflected, that great trees are many years in growing to their 
height, and are cut down in an hour ? It is foolish to think of 
the fruit only, without considering the height you have to climb to 
come at it. Take care lest, while you strive to reach the top, you 
fall to the ground with the branches on which you have laid hold. 

3. Besides, what have you to do with the Scythians, or the 
Scythians with you ? We have never invaded Macedon ; why 
should you attack Scythia ? We have conquered those who have 
attempted to tyrannise over us in our own country, and likewise 
the kings of the Medes and Persians, when they made unjust war 
upon us ; and, we have opened to ourselves a way into Egypt. 



270 COB 15 "S Sl'KAKKK. 

You pretend to be die puniaher of robbers, and are yourself tbe 
general robber of mankind. Xou have taken Lydia; yea bare 
seised Syria; yon are master of Persia; you have subdued the 

Bactriana, and attacked In<lia. 

4. All this an ill u. .t satisfy yon, unless you lay your greedy and 
insatiable hands upon <'iir flocks and our herds. How imprudent 
i- your conduct J You grasp at riches, the possession <>t' which 
only increases your avarice. You increase your hunger by what 
should produce satiety ; so that the more you have, the more you 
desire. Bat have you forgotten how long the conquest of the 
Bactrians detained you? While you were subduing than, the 

tans revolted. 

5. Your victories serve to no other purpose, than to find you 
employment by producing new wars ; for, the business of every 
conquest is twofold ; to win, and to preserve ; and though you may 
be the greatest of warriors, you must expect that the nations you 
conquer will endeavor to shake off the yoke as fast as possible ; for, 
what j^eople choose to be under foreign dominion ? 

6. If you will cross the Tanais, you may travel over Scythia, and 
observe how extensive a territory we inhabit. But to conquer us 
is qaita another business : you will find us, at one time, too nimble 
for your pursuit ; and, at another time, when you think we are fled 
tar niough from you, you will have us surprise you in your camp ; 
for, the Scythians attack with no less vigor than they flee. Why 
should we put you in mind of the vastness of the country you will 
have to conquer ? The deserts of Scythia are commonly talked of 
in Greece ; and, all the world knows, that our delight is to dwell 
at large, and not in towns or plantations. 

7. It will, therefore, be your wisdom to keep, with strict attention, 
what you have gained ; catching at more, you may lose what 
you have. We have a proverbial saying in Scythia, that Fortune 
has no feet, and is furnished only with hands to distribute her 
capricious favors ; and with fins to elude the grasp of those to 
whom she has been bountiful. 

8. Y'ou give yourself out to be a god, the son of Jupiter Ammon. 
It suits the character of a god to bestow favors on mortals, not to 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 271 

deprive them of what they have. But, if you be no god, reflect 
on the precarious condition of humanity. You will thus show 
more wisdom than by dwelling on those subjects which have 
puffed up your pride, and made you forget yourself. 

9. You see how little you are likely to gain by attempting the 
conquest of Scythia. On the other hand, you may, if you please, 
have in us a valuable ally. We command the borders both of 
Europe and Asia. There is nothing between us and Bactria but 
the river Tanais ; and, our territory extends to Thrace, which, as we 
have heard, borders on Macedon. If you decline attacking us in a 
hostile manner, you may have our friendship. 

10. Nations, which have never been at war, are on an equal 
footing ; but, it is in vain that confidence is reposed in a conquered 
people. There can be no sincere friendship between the oppressors 
and the oppressed ; even in peace, the latter think themselves en- 
titled to the rights of war against the former. We will, if you 
think good, enter into a treaty with you, according to our manner, 
which is, not by signing, sealing, and taking the gods to witness, 
as is the Grecian custom ; but by doing actual services. 

11. The Scythians are not used to promise; but, to perform 
without promising. And they think an appeal to the gods super- 
fluous ; for, that those who have no regard for the esteem of men, 
will not hesitate to offend the gods by perjury. You may, there- 
fore, consider with yourself, whether you had better have a peo- 
ple of such a character, and so situated as to have it in their 
power either to serve you or to annoy you, according as you treat 
them, as allies or as enemies. 



LESSON XCIX. 

A MOTHER'S LOVE. MONTGOMERY. 

A Mother's Love ; how sweet the name ! 

What is a mother's love ? 
A noble, pure, and tender flame, 

Enkindled from above, 



272 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

To blew b head of earthly mould ; 
The wannest love that can grow cold ; 
This is a mother's love. 



2. To bring a helpless babe t" light, 
Then, \\ bile it lies forlorn, 
To gaze upon that dearesl sight, 

And feel herself Dew-born, 
In it- existence lose her "\\ d, 
And li\<' and breathe in it alone ; 
This i- a mother's 1"\'-. 

3. Its weakness in her arm- t.» bear ; 

To cherish on her breast, 
Feed i1 from Love's own fountain there, 

And lull it there t<< rest ; 
Then, while it Blumbers, watch it- breath, 
As if to guard from instant death; 

This i- a mother's l"\'-. 

4. To mark it< growth from May today, 

Its opening charm- admire, 
Catch from its eye the earliest ray 

Of intellectual fire ; 
To smile and listen when it talks, 
And lend a finger when it walk- ; 

This is a mother's love. 

5. And can a mother's love grow cold ? 

Can she forget her boy ? 
His pleading innocence behold, 

Nor weep for grief; for joy ? 
A mother may forget her child, 
"While wolves devour it on the wild ; 

Is this a mother's love ? 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 273 

6. Ten thousand voices answer, " No !" 

Ye clasp your babes and kiss ; 
Your bosoms yearn, your eyes o'erflow ; 

Yet, ah ! remember this ; 
The infant, reared alone for earth, 
May live, may die, to curse his birth ; 

Is this a mother's love ? 

7. A parent's heart may prove a snare ; 

The child she loves so well, 
Her hand may lead, with gentlest care, 

Down the smooth road to hell ; 
Nourish its frame, destroy its mind ; 
Thus do the blind mislead the blind, 

Even with a mother's love. 

8. Blest infant ! whom his mother taught 

Early to seek the Lord, 
And poured upon his dawning thought 

The day-spring of the Word ; 
This was the lesson to her son, 
Time is eternity begun ; 

Behold that mother's love ! 

9. Blest mother ! who, in wisdom's path, 

By her own parent trod, 
Thus, taught her son to flee the wrath, 

And know the fear of God ; 
Ah ! youth, like him enjoy your prime, 
Begin eternity in time, 

Taught by that mother's love. 

10. That mother's love ! how sweet the name! 
What was that mother's love ? 
The noblest, purest, most tender flame, 
That kindles from above 
12* 



274 COBB'S SPEAK EK. 

Within a heart of earthly mould ; 
As much of heaven at heart can hold, 
Nor through eternity grows cold; 

This was that mother's love. 



LESSON Q 

KXIBJLOH WBOM AN address delivered at the opening of 
iiii: ii \ii. OF HO m:\v.\kk (n. j.) library association, WMB. 

1848. KKV. .-AMI Kl. I. I'RIME. 

1. Rejoicing together, this evening, in the progress of this no- 
ble work, lei ns now refresh our minds in the anticipation of those 
pleasures which we shall share with each other within these walls. 

Addressing, as I do, an intellectual assembly, engaged in a 1/ 
enterprise and aiming at the general diffusion of knowledge for the 
improvement of the common mind, I do not doubt, that I shall 
have universal coasenl to the proposition, that all the pleasures 
of a rational being should centre in the souL 

2. The lion ha- his pleasures, and the land). The sources of 
happiness open to each are adapted to their respective natures ; 
and, pursuing those tastes implanted by infinite wisdom and be- 
nevolence, they carry out the ends for which they were created. 
Happiness is a legitimate object of pursuit, worthy of a creature 
of God, and promised as an endless reward of those who love him. 
The creature with a mind to reason, to comprehend, to study, to 
advance towards perfection, may debase himself by the pursuit of 
sensual pleasures ; may poach on the manor of the brute and 
quarrel with the ox for his husks, or dispute the kennel with the 
dog, but he is out of the line of his destiny. 

3. A good dinner gratifies the palate of an epicure ; but the 
pleasure is shared with every carnivorous animal. Pleasures that 
flow to the soul through the organs of sense, as the pleasures of 
appetite, of equipage, of dress, of sumptuous living, are shared in 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 275 

common with the lower orders of being, and are enjoyed in greater 
or less profusion, as industry or fortune provides them. The 
miser who nightly draws his chest from its lurking-place to add 
his gold, while his heart glows joyously over his hard-gotten 
heap, is despised. But had he taken a portion of his gold to the 
smith to be beaten into platters to stand on his sideboard and 
adorn his table loaded with delicious viands, and into cups to hold 
his sparkling wine ; had he given a portion of his gold in exchange 
for a carriage and proud bays to draw it with him in it, the world 
would envy him as a happy man. 

4. A miser is called a miser-able man. The millionaire in his 
chariot and palace, is reckoned among the blessed. But tell me, 
ye who are able to calculate the difference of exchange, and can 
weigh the pleasures that become an immortal, rational mind, and 
have some adequate conception of what the capacity is and the 
proper destiny of the spirit of man, tell me why the raiser is not 
as happy with his ingots as in houses and horses ! In neither 
case is the pleasure co-existent in the same sphere with that order 
of being to which God, angels, and men belong. In both cases 
the animal instincts have been sharpened and guided by the 
power of rational mind, and then prostituted to the pursuit of en- 
joyment in channels that no animal but man would choose. 

5. All other enjoyment is shared with the brute and would be 
man's, if there were no books, no thoughts, no converse with 
spirit, no heaven. Under the brightness of this truth, the value of 
books appears. We ought to give more time to thinking, and by 
the sole power of our own faculties make progress in knowledge. 
" There is one art," says Coleridge, himself an example and teacher 
of its power, " of which every man should be master, the art of 
reflection. If you are not a thinking man, for what purpose are 
you a man at all ?" 

6. But life is short, and labors are many and pressing : few 
have time, and fewer have power to learn without books or by the 
ear. We must read and learn. Books are savings-banks, in 
which one generation deposites its earnings for the use of the 
next : they add their earnings to the store, and thus the capital is 



276 COBB'S SPEAK KB. 

increased from age to age. Learning hath this advantage, thai 
giving does no* empoverish, and withholding doei aol enrich. 

7. Hie highest wisdom is in the revelation of its Author, and 

the stream- that flow from that Bouroe are many ami full : their 
banks are fertile, their waters Bweet, and he who drinks shall ■ever 
thirst Desoending from this high source, the writings of 
who have tasted the springs of divine truth; and, next to I 
the work- of the leaned in every region of though n at, 

iiu r such fields of investigation as ever in\it<\ but never ex- 
haual the study of the inquiring mind. Is it pleasure then you 
seek? And have you a mind that is formed for communion with 
the wis.- and <j: 

8. Were you admitted to the society of Plato and 8 
Bacon and Newton, of Edwards and Coleridge, their presence n 
oppress, and prevent the high enjoyment which communion with 
their spirits would imparl to one at home in their presence. Bat 
their works a child may read : and. true modesty, an attribute 

urns, a- a child-like temper is the emblem of heaven, may >it down 
in the alcoves of a library at the feet of these illustrious men whose 
BhadowB fall solemnly on the track of time, and commune with 
them reverently and joyously. Hie man of many cares, whose 
spirit pressed in life's struggle, often longs for r<--t, shall turn from 
the toils of&a daily service, and here refresh his soul by coi 
with the mighty dead. 

9. But " I have not the time for reading," is the reply of those 
who feel the truthfulness of this, and have sense enough to admit 
that the pursuit of knowledge is infinitely desirable to make men 
rich and wise and happy. " I have not time." Did you ever 
make a calculation to determine the quantity of knowledge you 
can compass in a given time. It is not impossible for the most 
active man in the city to give one hour, or even two, in each day, 
to the improvement of his immortal mind. He ought to do it, or 
cease to think himself a man. 

10. Let him devote a part of this time, in the early morning, or 
at the close of the day ; but in this hour or two he may read fifty 
pages, and in the Gourse of a single year he will have perused 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 277 

18,000 pages ! In five years, he has made himself the master of 
two hundred and fifty volumes of incalculable worth. Does it 
arrest the mind of any youth whom I address, that it would be a 
pleasant acquisition to have perused the standard English poets ? 
In one year, by reading two hours each day, he will have- become 
familiar with every poet from Chaucer to Wordsworth. 

11. Would he read Fiction? In one year, he will have finished 
nearly every novel that was ever written, worth reading. History ? 
How soon, with industry and system, will the man of business 
make himself acquainted with the whole circle of history, ancient 
and modern ? What depths of philosophy will he explore ? What 
heights of learning will he mount ? This calculation any man may 
make for himself, and the truth of figures will convince the incred- 
ulous. 

12. And did it never occur to you that the most eminent 
scholars have pursued their studies under difficulties immeasurably 
superior to those which beset your path ? Professor Heyne, of 
Gottingen, " one of the greatest classical scholars of his own or of 
any age," was born in the most abject poverty, the son of a poor 
weaver, and often saw his mother weeping and wringing her hands 
because she had not food for her children. He fought his way 
through the thickest difficulties, and became an ornament to his 
race. 

13. Linnaeus, the celebrated botanist, was apprentice to a shoe- 
maker, and a scholar only upon charity. The world-famous Ben 
Jonson was a bricklayer; and, it was when speaking of him, 
that Fuller, in- his " English Worthies," says, " Let not them blush 
that have, but those that have not a lawful calling." These, and 
hundreds more, have battled with poverty and triumphed. In our 
country, the way to knowledge is so easy that poverty scarcely 
imposes a barrier. There are no toll-gates on the road. Free- 
schools are open to the young, and not a college in the land would 
shut its doors against a youth because he is poor. Two cents a 
week will give any boy, in the city of Newark, the range of this 
library with its thousands of volumes. Who can not be learned ? 
Who will not read and learn I 



278 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

LESSON CI. 

MR. PRIME'S ADDRESS. CONCLUDED. 

1. These examples might 1><' indefinitely extended. " The 
pursuit of knowledge under difficulties" is a subject full of inter- 
est, which might be profitably made the theme of an extended 

disquisition ; but, there are books devoted to the illustration, 
which you will readily find, that have furnished many of these in- 
cidents, and are full of others of similar pertinency and fo)< 

2. Here you will resort to find those bright examples of dili- 
gence and success, that will rouse (be youthful mind to generous 
emulation of the great and good, that will point you to height! of 
knowledge and fields of enjoyment, which you may gain and call 
your own. Here you will find that even those men who have 
made the greatest improvements in the mechanic arts, and thus 
conferred perennial blessings upon their race, have not been the 
dull, plodding wielder of the hammer and turner of the wheel, 
but men who thought and studied while their hands were busy 
with the tools. Thus is it in every walk of life. Knowledge and 
virtue are the arms of individual, as well as national strength ; 
and, he who will, may wield them both and conquer. 

3. Mr. President ; Those who have been familiar with the rise 
and progress of this Association, with the doubts and discourage- 
ments in which it was undertaken, the long and painful struggles 
of 'the infant enterprise, the immense and intense labor with which 
it was pushed on through the clouds with which its morning was 
obscured and its rising delayed, will appreciate the satisfaction 
with which I congratulate you and our associates, and the ladies 
and gentlemen, especially the youthful portion of this community, 
upon the grand result. 

4. An edifice at once the ornament and defence of the city : an 
architectural ornament that has no rival among us, and a moral 
defence second only to the sacred temples which are dear to us as 
the ark of the covenant to ancient Israel ; such an edifice has been 
reared, not by the munificence of one or two men of wealth, not 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 279 

by any profession, sect or party, but by the contributions of the 
friends of learning, who have cheerfully combined their means to 
build these walls and dedicate them to the diffusion of useful 
knowledge among men. 

5. In this great work we have had the favoring Providence of 
the All-wise God ; and, we have never doubted that this house will 
advance his honor and secure his praise. To him we look for 
continued smiles. Never may these walls be vocal with a sound, 
never may these alcoves give shelter to a page, on which the face 
of Infinite purity and truth will frown ! 

6. And now we enter upon their enjoyment. I wish that we 
had some adequate conception of what is before us, here and here- 
after. Sometimes I have thought it would be a mission worthy 
of the most exalted powers of argument and persuasion, not un- 
worthy an angel's gifts, to go into the market-places of this gen- 
eration, and challenge living men to think of what they are and 
where they are going ! 

7. We are intellectual and immortal beings. Combine these 
attributes of our nature, and think of our duties and destinies. 
Pause in the race of life, and view the goal to which you are has- 
tening. Can you see it ? Take the strongest glass that human 
ingenuity has contrived to aid the eye, and with it pierce the future. 
Canst thou measure the capacity or duration of thy spirit ? Didst 
thou ever undertake to estimate the reach of infinite progression ? 
Concerning thyself with matter, the limit of thy power is soon ex- 
hausted. Pile up pebbles, and at last you can pile them no higher. 

8. Art is long and strong, but time is longer and stronger ; and 
what man does is undone. There is an end to it. But didst thou 
ever, child of immortality, consider the power of an endless life ; 
that death is predicated only of the flesh, and that for nothing but 
to free thy spirit for the spirit-land, and to give it wider range in 
realms of knowledge where the ethereal essence dwells alone. 

9. Life has its labors. I know them, and would not shun them. 
Day by day we must seek our daily bread. The world around us 
has a claim upon our heart and hand. We must work while we 
live. It is our lot, and it is right. 



280 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

10. Life has its pleasures. I love them, and rejoice in them. 
The domestic fire-side ; the social circle; the song of friendship; 
the voice of love : there is not a joy on earth 1 would not share 
with every son and daughter of the wide family of man. 

11. But with the labors and the pleasures of the life that now 
is, 1 would never oease to feel; and, I would fasten the thought 

as with nails upon every youthful heart, that the purest and lofti- 

i'-i pleasure u in the prolonged and infinite expansion of the hu- 
man mind. From the depths <>f cur present ignorance, let a 

into the regions of fight and truth that arc above us. 

12. The company of the good and great and wise invites us to 
the upward flight Let us know more, and the more w<- know, 
the more we shall long to know. Gravitation draws upward in 
the world of mind. < toward is the word : higher] See the proud 
eminence on which the Leader spirits of olden times arc resting 
now. They have not drawn the ladder after them. In the morn- 
ing "four career we may climb to their Bide; and, when do steps 
ascend to higher worlds, our spirits, loosed from flesh, shall stretch 
their way right onward and upward, till they fold their pini 

the foot of the eternal throne. 



LESSON OIL 



RURAL FUNERALS. IRVING. 



1. The sorrow 7 for the dead is the only sorrow from which we 
refuse to be divorced. Every other wound we seek to heal, every 
other affliction to forget ; but this wound we consider it a duty to 
keep open ; this affliction we cherish and brood over in solitude. 
Where is the mother who would willingly forget the infant that 
perished like a blossom foom her arms, though every recollection 
is a pang ? Where is the child that would willingly forget the 
most tender of parents, though to remember be but to lament? 

2. Who, even in the hour of agony, would forget the friend over 



COBB'S SPEAKEE. 281 

whom he mourns ? Who, ^ven when the tomb is closing upon 
the remains of her he most loved ; when he feels his heart, as it 
were, crushed in the closing of its portals ; would accept of conso- 
lation that must be bought by forgetfulness ? ISTo, the love which 
survives the tomb is one of the noblest attributes of the soul. 

3. If it has its woes, it has likewise its delights; and when the 
overwhelming burst of grief is calmed into the gentle tear of recol- 
lection, when the sudden anguish and the convulsive agony over 
the present ruins of all that we most loved, is softened away into 
pensive meditation on all that it was in the days of its loveliness, who 
would root out such a sorrow from the heart ? Though it may 
sometimes throw a passing cloud over the bright hour of gayety, 
or spread a deeper sadness over the hour of gloom, yet who would 
exchange it, even for the song of pleasure, or the burst of revelry ? 

4. No, there is a voice from the tomb sweeter than song. There is 
a remembrance of the dead to which we turn even from the charms 
of the living. Oh ! the grave ! the grave ! It buries every error, 
covers every defect, extinguishes every resentment ! From its peace-' 
fill bosom spring none but fond regrets and tender recollections. 
Who can look down even upon the grave of an enemy, and not 
feel a compunctious throb, that he should ever have warred with 
the poor handful of earth, that lies mouldering before him ! 

5. But the grave of those we loved, what a place for meditation ! 
There it is, that we call up in long review the whole history of 
virtue and gentleness, and the thousand endearments lavished 
upon us, almost unheeded in the daily intercourse of intimacy; 
there it is that . we dwell upon the tenderness, the solemn, awful 
tenderness of the parting scene. The bed of death, with all its 
stifled griefs, its noiseless attendance, its mute, watchful assiduities. 

6. The last testimonies of expiring love ! the feeble, fluttering, 
thrilling, oh ! how thrilling ! pressure of the hand ! The faint, fal- 
tering accents, struggling in death to give one more assurance of 
affection ! The last fond look of the glazing eye, turning upon us 
even from the threshold of existence ! Ay, go to the grave of 
buried love, and meditate ! There settle the account with thy 
conscience for every past benefit unrequited, every past endear 



282 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

merit unregarded, of that departed being, who can never, m -v«-v, 
never return to be soothed by thy contrition | 

7. If thou art a child, and hart ever added a sorrow to tin: soul, 
or a furrow to the silvered brow of an affectionate parent, if thou art 
a husband, and bast ever eaneed the fond bosom that ventured its 
whole happiness in thy arms, to doubt one moment of thy kindness 
or thy truth; if thou art ;i friend, and nasi ever wronged, in 
thought, or word, or deed, the spirit that generously confided in 
thee; if thou art a lover, ami bast ever given cue unmerited pang 
to that true In-art which now lies cold and still beneath thy feet; 
then he sure that every unkind look, every ungracious word, every 
ungentle action, will come thronging back upon thy memory, and 
knock dolefully at thy BOttl ; then be BUT6 that thou wilt lie down 
sorrowing and repentant in the grave, and utter the unheard 
groan, and pour the unavailing tear, more dee],, more bitter, be- 
cause unheard and unavailing. 

8. Then weave thy ohaplet of flowers, and Btrowthe beaut 
nature about the grave ; console thy broken -pint, if thou canst, 
with these tender, yet futile tributes of regret; but take warning 
by the bitterness of this thy contrite affliction over the dead, and 
henceforth be more faithful and affectionate in the discharge of 
thy duties to the living. 



LESSON CIIL 
sympathy. — wright's casket. 



1. Speak to that erring, fallen brother. Speak in words of 
kindness and sympathy. Let him know that in his self-inflicted 
degradation, low as he may have fallen, deeply as he may have 
erred, there are those that care for his welfare. He knows that 
you are a good Washingtonian, and can but look with abhorrence 
upon his intemperance. He knows, perhaps, that you are a 
Christian, a follower of Him who " went about doing good." 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 283 

2. But no matter. Your words will fall like melody upon his 
sad heart, if given in kindness and love ; and, the circumstances of 
your different positions in society will give additional force and in- 
fluence to your action. He needs your sympathy and kindness. 
The moral powers of his spirit have been broken by frequent 
observations and errors. His heart has become callous by fre- 
quent mingling in immoral associations and contact with vice, and 
his whole moral man lies in ruins. Chide him not. 

3. Your silence is the strongest reproof. He feels it more keenly 
than the harshest words, and let your silent kindness stand in 
strong contrast with the execrations of those who have caused his 
ruin. Believe not that he is unmindful of his fall and degradation. 
His mind, rushing through the vista of the past, rests mournfully 
upon a thousand infirmities, indiscretions, and follies, and there is 
the gathering up of that mighty resolution to break the snare of 
the destroyer and be free. 

4. Strengthen it by your kindness, and by giving him your 
confidence. Let him feel that you believe him capable of refor- 
mation, of coming up to assert the high prerogatives of humanity, 
and of regaining his lost standing and happiness. Breathe not a 
thought of his relapse, but bid him onward and upward in the 
stern march of life. Your kindness will find way to his frozen 
heart, unlock the warm sympathies of his soul ; and, while he 
gathers up the scattered energies of nature for triumphant battle 
with the tempter, the " blessing of Him that was ready to perish 
shall come down upon you." 



LESSON CIV. 

IMMORALITY OF LARGE CITIES. REV. ORVILLE DEWEY. 

1. A man comes from a distant part of the country, a trader 
perhaps, to your city. It is impossible that he should not be 
much impressed with what he sees around him, business, life, 



284 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

fashion, equipage, all upon a scale so much more splendid and 
luxurious than that to which he has been accustomad. 11*: is 
obviously placed in a state to be Strongly influenced; a situation 
more favorable to that end is scarcely conceivable : and influ- 
enced too, not by a mere outward spectacle. 

2. It is not the brick and mortar, the splendid mansion «»r 
entertainment, the sen ice of plate <»r the rich costume ; but it i- the 
spirit of society living and breathing through these forms, that 
steals with a subtler influence into his mind. The public opinion, 
and 1 Bay it with emphasis, the public opinion that prevails in 
cities is, from their position, more pervading and powerful than 

any other public Opinion in the world. 

3. If our visiter to the city finds those who live in the splendid 
mansions around him, living simply, temperately, virtuously; 
interested in the best welfare of BOciety, it> education, morality, 
and religion, he is breathing an atmosphere, most healthful and 
happy for him; and he will carryback a report to his country 
home, full of encouragement to all good men there, and of rebuke 
to all bad men. Oh I what messages are these, to go from among 

the whole wide land ! May they be multiplied ! 

4. 1 thank God that there arc such messages. But suppose 
that the visiter to our city finds much here, that is widely and 
unhappily different from that representation. Suppose that he is 
impressed with the covetousness, extravagance, and immorality of 
the people, rather than with the opposite qualities. 

5. Suppose that he finds here, not only thousands of houses of 
evil allurement, I speak not in random terms ; three thousand 
drinking houses are but one item in the account; that he finds, I 
say, not only some thousands of houses of evil allurement, but that 
he falls in with some of those currents of evil conversation and 
practice which are ever flowing towards those reservoirs of iniquity. 

6. He is introduced, you perceive, both by the spectacle and 
the spirit of things around him, to new modes and new ideas of 
life. Instead of that regular and reasonable application to busi- 
ness, and that quiet, domestic fidelity and enjoyment, which mark 
out, as he had before thought, the only lawful plan in life, he finds 



I 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 285 

those in the city throng, made up as it is of many moral classes, 
he finds those, and not a few, perhaps, who are pushing business 
to unscrupulous excess one part of the day, that they may urge 
pleasure to criminal excess another. 

7. He hears it insinuated too, on a basis indeed of truth, but 
with a large superstructure of exaggeration, that many around 
him, holding a respectable rank in society, are accustomed to resort 
to houses of midnight dissoluteness, gambling, and intemperance ! 
He is shocked, he is almost shaken, perhaps, in some of his moral 
judgments. He departs from the scene, wondering but not cor- 
rupted. He carries his wonder with him to his country retire- 
ment, and naturally gives it utterance. 

8. Many reports of this kind, carried by individuals, sanctioned 
by newspapers, and confirmed by the testimonies given in our 
courts of justice, spread at length an impression through the country, 
that the city is almost wholly given up to the idolatry of sense ; 
and this impression powerfully tends to sap the very foundations 
of public morality. Bad and dissolute men are encouraged by it. 
They say to the advocates of strict virtue, " You see that we are 
not alone ! These notions," say they, " of strictness and self-re- 
straint are all the fruit of country simplicity and ignorance." But 
great as the injury is in this view, it is not as great as the injury 
to and through the individual whose case I am considering. 

9. He comes again to the great city-mart ; he falls again into 
society like that which he had seen before ; he hears again that 
loose and reckless conversation, whose breath, more fatally than 
any other influence, dissolves the bands of virtue ; he hears, and 
the more he hears, the less he is shocked ; use breeds familiarity ; 
familiarity, indifference ; indifference leaves the soul unguarded ; 
leaves it to be carried away by any casual whim, temporary ex- 
citement, or deep-seated passion, yes, carried away to the dens of 
evil indulgence : and now it may be, that he who, five years ago, 
came to the city with none but honest intents, and looked upon 
many things around him with no feelings but of surprise and dis- 
pleasure, now, I say, he comes, perhaps, full as much for unlawful 
pleasure as for lawful business : yes, he has fallen into those very 



286 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

habits which, five years ago, filled him with amazement tad 
horror. 

10. Nor is this all; nor even the worst. He carries the infec- 
tion of example with him. Corrupted in the city, he become ■ 
centre and source of corruption in the country, lie opens a foun- 
tain in the midst of some pure community, whose poisonou waters 
flow, underground, through many a hidden channel; yet not so 
deep, but that they pollute the very soil of society where lie liv«-s, 
blasting many a verdant >\»>\, ami fair flower, and shapelv young 
tree, that shall spring up there for a century to come. 



LESSON CV. 

CURIOUS SOCIAL HABITS OF THE OSAGES. CHEROKEE ADVOCATE. 

1. Among the Osage Indians a young man of eighteen will 
sometimes say to a widow twice his age, perhaps, Come, take a 
hunt with me. The widow answers, hoa, (yes.) This mean- these 
two will hunt together like man and wife ; both parties putting 
together their horses, camp kettles, and equipage. 

2. On the hunt, the man hunts ; the woman saddles and un- 
saddles his horse, unpacks his meat, builds his lodge, collects his 
wood, cooks his food, and makes his moccasins ; and, in every 
respect, takes the place and post of a dutiful and helping wife, vet 
they are not married. Sometimes they repeat several hunts, and 
even live years together, and the woman bears children ; but this 
is not marriage. 

3. However well this young man may be suited with his hunt- 
ing companion, should he be so fortunate as to rise to the rank of 
a brave or warrior, he casts her off without ceremony, and marries, 
that is, buys a wife after the custom of his nation, and is praised 
for so doing ; for, his previous union is not considered honorable 
for a brave or warrior. 

4. No man can marry a warrior's daughter that is not a warrior 



COBB'S SPEAKEE. 287 

himself. Consequently, mothers often cry and pray, and before 
their sons, that they may be men enough to go to war, and kill 
and scalp the Pawnees, and be successful in stealing horses, that 
they may rise to the grade of warriors, and get honorably married. 

5. No Osage feels honorable, or is considered honorable, or 
treated honorably, until he distinguishes himself and is called a 
brave or a warrior. This he may do in one of the five following 
ways ; shoot down his enemy ; knock him on the head after another 
has shot him down ; scalp him after he has been shot down and 
knocked on the head ; shoot through two buffaloes with an arrow 
at one shot ; or, steal ten horses. 

6. To do any one of the above acts entitles him to the name of 
a brave, and to the privilege of carrying a tomahawk. All others 
are waiters or kettle tenders. A brave or warrior may strike a 
kettle tender and he can not resent it, or return the blow, until he 
rises to the same grade ; then he may do it if it should be twenty 
years afterward. 

7. All girls among the Osages are sold in marriage. I have 
never known an Osage girl to take up with a man, as the term is 
used among some other nations. However poor the mother, aunt, 
or guardian is, she will demand something for her daughter or 
ward in marriage. 

8. The girls being in demand, and the mothers giving them up 
only for value received, lead the mothers to watch the girls in the 
strictest manner. Widows of every grade and age make their 
own marriage contracts, and in the loosest possible manner. But 
the girls are as chaste as those of any nation. I have never known 
a runaway match among them. 



LESSON CVT. 

INTEMPERANCE. REV. DR. LYMAN BEECHER. 

1. Could I call around me, in one vast assembly, the temperate 
young men of our land, I would say, Hopes of the nation, blessed 



288 COBB 9 BFEA K E ft. 

of th.- Lord now in the dew of your youth. Bat l<»<>k well 
to your footsteps : for ripen, and scorpions, and adders, surroand 
your way. Look at the generation who have just preceded you: 
tli" morning of their life was cloudless, and it dawned at brightly as 
v«»ur own; but, behold them bitten, swollen, enfeebled, mil 

debauched, idle, ] r, irreligious, and \i<-iou»; with baiting 

dragging onward to meet an early ^vam- ! 

2, Their bright prospects are clouded, and their ^m i> set never 

to ii->'! No house of their own receives them, while from p -.-r 

to poorer tenements they descend, and to harder ami header fine, 
as improvidence dries np their resources. And now, who ereviose 
that wait on their footsteps u ith muffled bees and sable garments 1 
That i> a father, and that i- a mother, whose gray hairs are coming 
with sorrow to the grave. That i- a Bister, wet t evils 

which she can not arres< ; ami there i> th.- broken-hearted will-; 
ami there are th.- children; hapless innocents; for whom their 
lather has provided th.' inheritance only of dishonor, ami naked- 
ness, and 

\ml i> tlii-, beloved young men, the history of your course! 
In this senr of desolation, do you behold th.- image of your future 
selves I fa this the poverty and disease, which, as an armed man, 
shall take bold on yon I And are your fathers, and mothers, and 
. and wives, and children, to Bucceed to those who now 
move on in this mournful procession, weeping a- they 
bright as your morning now opens, and high as your hopes beat, 
this is your noon, and your night, unless you shun those habits of 
intemperance which have thus early made theirs a day of clouds 
and thick darkness. If you frequent places of evening resort for 
social drinking ; if you set out with drinking daily a little, tem- 
perately, prudently ; it is yourselves which, as in a glass, you be- 
hold. 

4. Might I select specific objects of address ; to the young hus- 
bandman or mechanic, I would say, Happy man ! your employ- 
ment is useful and honorable, and with temperance and industry 
you rise to competence, and rear up around you a happy family, 
and transmit to them, as a precious legacy, your own fair fame. 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 289 

But look around you ; are there none who were once in your con- 
dition, whose health, and reputation, and substance, are gone ? 
What would tempt you to exchange conditions ? 

5. And yet, sure as seed-time and harvest, if you drink daily, at 
stated times, and visit from evening to evening, the resorts of social 
drinking, or stop to take refreshment as you enter or retire from 
the city, town, or village, yours will become the condition of those 
ruined farmers and artisans around you. 

6. To another, I would say, You are a man of wealth, and may 
drink to the extinction of life without the risk of empoverishment ; 
but, look at you neighbor, his bloated face, and inflamed eye, and 
blistered lip, and trembling hand : he too is a man of wealth, and 
may die of intemperance without the fear of poverty. 

7. Do you demand, " What have I to do with such examples ?" 
Nothing ; if you take warning by them. But if you too should 
cleave to the morning bitter, and the noon-tide dram, and the 
evening beverage, you have in these signals of ruin the memorials 
of your own miserable end ; for, the same causes, in the same cir- 
cumstances, will produce the same effects. 

8. To the affectionate husband I would say, Behold the wife of 
thy bosom, young and beautiful as the morning ; and yet her day 
may be overcast with clouds, and all thy early hopes be blasted. 
Upon her the fell destroyer may lay his hand, and plant in that 
healthful frame the seeds of disease, and transmit to successive 
generations the inheritance of crime and wo. Will you not watch 
over her with ever-wakeful affection, and keep far from your abode 
the occasions of temptation and ruin % 

9. Call around you the circle of your healthful and beautiful 
children. Will you bring contagion into such a circle as this? 
Shall those sparkling eyes become imflamed, those rosy cheeks 
purpled and bloated, that sweet breath be tainted, those ruby lips 
blistered, and that vital tone of unceasing cheerfulness be turned 
into tremor and melancholy ? Shall those joints, so compact, be 
unstrung, that dawning intellect be clouded, those affectionate 
sensibilities benumbed, and those capacities for holiness and heaven 
be filled with sin, and " fitted for destruction V 

13 



290 OOBB'S SFE1 K BR, 

10. thou father ! was it for this that the Son of God ihed his 
blood for thy precious offspring ; that, abandoned and even tempt- 
ed by thee, they Bhould destroy themselves, and pierce thy heart 
with many Borrows! Wouldst thou lei the wolf into thy sheep- 
fold among the tender lambs 1 Wouldst thou Bend thy flock to 
graze about a den of lions? Close, then, thy doors against a 
ferocious destroyer, and withhold tin- footsteps of thy immortal 
progeny from places of resort more dangerous than the lion's den! 

11. Should a Berpent of vast dimensions surprise, in the field, 
one of vour little group, and wreath about his body his oold, 
elastic folds, tightening with every yielding breath his deadly 
gripe; how would oil cries pierce your bouI, and his strained eye- 
balls, and convulsive agonies, and imploring hands, add wrings to 
your feet, and supernatural strength to your arms? But in this 
case you could approach with hope to bis rescue. 

12. The keen edge of Bteel might sunder the elastic fold, and 
rescue the victim, who, the moment he is released, breathes freely, 
and is well again. But the serpent Intemperance twines about 
the body of your child a deadlier gripe, and extorts a keener cry 
of distress, and mocks your effort to relieve him by a fibre which 
no steel can sunder. Like LaocoOn, you can only look on while 
bone after bone of your child is crushed, till his agonies are over, 
and his cries are hushed in death. 



LESSON CVII. 

THE RAIL-WAY. DUBLIN UNIVERSITY MAGAZINE. 

1. The silent glen, the sunless stream, 
To wandering boyhood dear, 
And treasured still in many a dream, 
They are no longer here ; 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 291 

A huge red mound of earth is thrown 
Across the glen so wild and lone, 
The stream so cold and clear ; 
And lightning speed, and thundering sound, 
Pass hourly o'er the unsightly mound. 

2. Nor this alone ; for many a mile 

Along that iron way, 
No verdant banks or hedge-rows smile 

In summer's glory gay ; 
Thro' chasms that yawn as though the earth 
Were rent in some strange mountain-birth, 

Whose depth excludes the day, 
We're borne away at headlong pace, 
To win from time the wearying race ! 

3. The wayside inn, with homelike air, 

No longer tempts a guest 
To taste its unpretending fare, 

Or seek its welcome rest. 
The prancing team, the merry horn, 
The cool fresh road at early morn, 

The coachman's ready jest ; 
All, all to distant dream-land gone, 
While shrieking trains are hurrying on. 

4. Yet greet we them with thankful hearts, 

And eyes that own no tear, 
'Tis nothing now, the space which parts 

The distant from the dear ; 
The wing that to her cherished nest 
Bears home the bird's exulting breast, 

Has found its rival here. 
With speed like hers we too can haste, 
The bliss of meeting hearts to taste. 



292 CO 15 B B 9 PEA I KB. 

5. For me, I gaze along the line 

To watch the approaching train, 
And deem it still, 'twixl me and mine, 
A rude, but welcome chain 

To bind Qfl in a world, whose 

Each passing hour to Beyer tries, 

J hit here may try in rain ; 
To bring as Dear home many an art, 
Stern fate employs to keep apart 



LESSON CVIIL 

THE DESERTED CHILDREN. CINCIN N A I I PAPER, 

1. In tlic autumn of 1828, a man was descending the Ohio river, 

with three -mail children, in a canoe. lie had lost his wife, and, 
in the emigrating spirit of our people, was transporting his all, to 
a new country, where ho might again begin th«- world. Arriving 
towards evening at a small island, he landed there, with the inten- 
tion of encamping for the night After remaining a short time, he 
determined t«» \isit the opposite Bhore, for the purpose, probably, 
of purchasing provisions ; and telling his children that he would 
soon return to them, he paddled off, leaving them alone on the 
island. 

2. Unfortunately, he met on the shore with some loose company, 
who had invited him to drink. He became intoxicated, and. in 
attempting to return to the island in the night, was drowned ! 
The canoe floated away, and no one knew of the catastrophe until 
the following day. The poor, deserted children, in the mean 
wdiile, wandered about the uninhabited island, straining their little 
eyes to catch a glimpse of their father. 

3. Night came, and they had no fire, nor food ; no bed to rest 
upon, and no parent to watch over them. The weather was ex- 






COBB'S SPEAKER. 293 

tremely cold, and the eldest child, though but eight years of age, 
remembered to have heard that persons who slept in the cold, were 
sometimes chilled to death. She continued, therefore, to wander 
about ; and when the younger children, worn out with fatigue and 
drowsiness, were ready to drop into slumber, she kept them awake 
with amusing or alarming stories. 

4. At. last, nature could hold out no longer, and the little ones, 
chilled and aching with cold, threw themselves on the ground. 
Then their sister sat down, and spreading out her garments as wide 
as possible, drew them on her lap, and endeavored to impart the 
warmth of her own bosom, as they slept sweetly on her arms. 
Morning came, and the desolate children sat on the shore, weeping 
bitterly. At length, they were filled with joy, by the sight of a 
canoe approaching the island. But they soon discovered that it 
was filled with Indians ; their delight was changed into terror, and 
they fled into the woods. 

5. Believing that the savages had murdered their father, and 
were now come to seek for them, they crouched under the bushes, 
hiding in breathless fear, like a brood of young partridges. The 
Indians, having kindled a fire, sat down around it, and began to 
cook their morning-meal ; and the eldest child, as she peeped out 
from her hiding-place, began to think that they had not killed her 
father. 

6. She reflected, too, that they must inevitably starve, if left on 
this lone island, while, on the other hand, there was a possibility 
of being kindly treated by the Indians. The cries, too, of her 
brother and sister, who had been begging piteously for food, had 
pierced her heart, and awakened all her energy. She told the little 
ones, over whose feeble minds her fine spirit had acquired an 
absolute sway, to get up and go with her ; then taking a hand of 
each, she fearlessly led them to the Indian camp-fire. Fortunately, 
the savages understood our language ; and, when the little girl had 
explained to them what had occurred, they received the deserted 
children kindly, and conducted them to New Madrid, where they 
were kept by some benevolent people, until their own relatives 
claimed them. 



294 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

LESSON CIX. 

OBSERVANCE OF THE SABBATH. REV. DR. GARDINER SPRING. 

1. The Sabbatli lies at the foundation of all true morality. 
Molality flows from principle. Let the principles of moral obliga- 
tion become relaxed, and the practice of morality will not long 
survive the overthrow. No man can preserve his own morals; no 
parent can preserve the morals of his children, without the im- 
pressions of religious obligation. 

2. If you can induce a community to doubt the gonuii 

and authenticity of the Scriptures; to question the reality, and 
obligations of religion ; to hesitate, undeciding, whether tli« 
any such thing as virtue or vice; whether there be an eternal 
state of retribution beyond the grave ; or whether there exists any 
such being as God, you have broken down the barriers of moral 
virtue, and hoisted the flood-gates of immorality and crime. 

3. I need not say, that when a people have once done this, 
they can no longer exist as a tranquil and happy people. Every 
bond that holds society together would be ruptured; fraud and 
treachery would take the place of confidence between man and 
man ; the tribunals of justice would be scenes of bribery and in- 
justice; avarice, perjury, ambition, and revenge would walk 
through the land, and render it more like the dwelling of savage 
beasts, than the tranquil abode of civilized and christianized men. 

4. If there is an institution which opposes itself to this progress 
of human degeneracy, and throws a shield before the interests of 
moral virtue in our thoughtless and wayward world, it is the Sab- 
bath. In the fearful struggle between virtue and vice, not with- 

OS / 

standing the powerful auxiliaries which wickedness finds in the 
bosom of men, and in the seductions and influence of popular ex- 
ample, wherever the Sabbath has been suffered to live, the trembling 
interests of moral virtue have always been revered and sustained. 

5. One of the principal occupations of this day, is to illustrate 
and enforce the great principles of sound morality. Where this 
sacred trust is preserved inviolate, you behold a nation convened 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 295 

one day in seven, for the purpose of acquainting themselves with 
the best moral principles and precepts. And it can not be other- 
wise, than that the authority of moral virtue, under such auspices, 
should be acknowledged and felt. 

6. We may not, at once, perceive the effects which this weekly 
observance produces. Like most moral causes, it operates slowly ; 
but it operates surely, and gradually weakens the power, and 
breaks the yoke of profligacy and sin. - No villain regards the 
Sabbath. No vicious family regards the Sabbath. No immoral 
community regards the Sabbath. The holy rest of this ever-mem- 
orable day, is a barrier which is always broken down, before men 
become giants in sin. 

V. Blackstone, in his Commentaries on the Laws of England, 
remarks, that " a corruption of morals usually follows a profana- 
tion of the Sabbath." It is an observation of Lord Chief Justice 
Hale, that " of all the persons who were convicted of capital crimes, 
while he was upon the bench, he found a few, only, who would 
not confess that they began their career of wickedness by a neglect 
of the duties of the Sabbath, and vicious conduct on that day." 

8. The prisons in our own land could probably tell us, that 
they have scarcely a solitary tenant, who had not broken over the 
restraints of the Sabbath, before he was abandoned to crime. You 
may enact laws for the suppression of immorality ; but the secret 
and silent power of the Sabbath constitutes a stronger shield to 
the vital interest of the community, than any code of penal statutes 
that ever was enacted. The Sabbath is the key-stone of the arch 
which sustains the temple of virtue, which, however defaced, will 
survive many a rude shock, so long as the foundation remains firm. 

9. The observance of the Sabbath is, also, most influential in 
securing national prosperity. The God of Heaven has said, 
" Them that honor me, will I honor." You will not often find a 
notorious Sabbath-breaker a permanently prosperous man ; and a 
Sabbath-breaking community is never a happy or prosperous com- 
munity. There are a multitude of unobserved influences, which 
the Sabbath exerts upon the temporal welfare of men. 

10. It promotes the spirit of good order and harmony; it ele- 



296 COBB'S SPKAKEK. 

rates the poor from want; it transforms squalid frretebedn 
imparts self-respect and elevation of character; it prom 

md civility of manners; it brings together 1 1 * « - rich and the 
poor, upon one common level, in the house of prayer ; ttpurifi 
itrengthens 1 sffections, and makes the family circle the 

centre of allurement, and the source of instruction, comfort, and 
happiness. Lik<- its own divine religion, it "has the promt 
the life thai now is, and that which is to come," for men can not 
put themselves beyond the reach of 1 1 • » j »• - and heaven, as k 
they treasure nj> thai one command, " Remember the Sabbath- 
day, to keep it holy." 



LESSON OX. 

EXTRACT FROM A DISCO IVI.KKD BY REV. DB, If] 

PIBK, 'in- LKOISLATUBI OT VERMONT, i>» 'im: DAT OV 

GENERAL BLECTIOE, \T MOBTPELIER, OCT. 1-', 1 

1. ThERI is a spirit, an active. ;t-jdriN'_f principle in man, which 
cannot be broken down by oppression, or satisfied by indulg 

" He has a soul of vast desires, 
It burns within with restless fires." 

Desires, which no earthly good can satisfy ; fires, which no 
waters of affliction or discouragement can quench. And it is from 
this his nature, that society derives all it- interests, and her* 
lies all its danger. This spirit is at once the terror of tyrants, and 
the destroyer of republics. 

2. To form some idea of its strength, let us look at it in its differ- 
ent conditions, both when it is depressed, and when it is exalted. 
See when it is bent down for a time, by the iron grasp and leaden 
sceptre of tyranny, cramping, and curtailing, and hedging in the 
soul, and foiling it in all its attempts to break from its bonds and 



COBB'S SPEAKEE. 297 

assert its native independence. In these cases, the noble spirit, like 
a wild beast in the toils, sinks down at times, into sullen inactivity, 
only that it may rise again, when exhausted nature is a little 
restored, to rush, as hope excites or madness impels, in stronger 
paroxysms against the cords which bind it down. 

3. This is seen in the mobs and rebellions of the most besotted 
and enslaved nations. Witness the repeated convulsions in Ireland, 
that degraded and oppressed country. Neither desolating armies, 
nor numerous garrisons, nor the most rigorous administration, en- 
forced by thousands of public executions, can break the spirit of 
that restless people. 

4. Witness Greece; generations have passed away since the 
warriors of Greece have had their feet put in fetters, and the race 
of heroes had apparently become extinct ; and the Grecian lyre 
had long been unstrung, and her lights put out. Her haughty 
masters thought her spirit was dead ; but it was not dead, it only 
slept. In a moment, as it were, we saw all Greece in arms ; she 
shook off her slumbers, and rushed with phrensy and hope, upon 
seeming impossibilities, to conquer or to die. 

5. And though the mother and the daughter, as well as the 
father and son, have fought and fallen in the common cause, until 
her population grows thin ; though Missolonghi and many other 
strongholds are fallen, until her fortifications are few and feeble ; 
though Christian nations have looked on with a cruel inactivity, 
without lending their needed aid ; yet the spirit of Greece is no 
more subdued than at the commencement of the contest. It can 
not be subdued. 

6. W T e see then that man has a spirit, which is not easily broken 
down by oppression. Let us inquire, whether it can be more 
easily satisfied by indulgence. And in every step of this inquiry, 
we shall find that no miser ever had gold enough ; no office-seeker 
ever yet had honor enough ; no conqueror ever yet subdued king- 
doms enough. When the rich man had filled his store-houses, he 
must pull down and build larger. When Cesar had conquered all 
his enemies, he must enslave his friends. 

7. When Bonaparte had become the Emperor of France, he 

13* 



298 COBB'S SI'EAKEK. 

aspired to the throne of all Europe. Pacta, i thousand hn 
every age and among all classes, prove, that such is tin- ambitious 
nature of the soul, such tin- increasing compass of its vast d 
that the material universe, with all its rastness, richness, and 
variety, ran not satisfy it. N'T is ji iii the power of the govern- 
ments of this world, in their most perfect forms, so to interest tin: 
feelings, so to regulate the desires, so to restrain the passions, or 
so to divert, or charm, or chain tin- souls of a whole community, 
Lut that these latent and ungovernable fires will sooner or later 
burst -ait and endanger the whole bodj politic 

8. I know it ha- been supposed, by the politicians, that in an 

intelligent and well-educated community, ;i government might be 
go constituted by a proper balance of power, by equal ropresenta 
tion, and by leaving open the avenues to office and wealth, for a 
fair and honorable competition among all clai — , a- to perpetuate 
the system to the latest posterity. Such a system nment, 

it is acknowledged, i- the most likely to continue; but, all these 
political and literary helps, unaided by the kingdom of Christ, will 
not secure any community from revolution and ruin. 

9. And he knows but little of the nature of man who judges 
otherwise. What ha- been the fate of the ancient republics? 
They have been dissolved by this same restless and disorganizing 
spirit, of which we have been speaking. And do we not see the 
same dangerous spirit, in our own comparatively happy and 
strongly constituted republic ? 

10. The wise framers of our excellent political institutions, like 
the eclectic philosophers, have selected the best parts out of all the 
systems which preceded them ; and to these have added others, 
according to the suggestions of their own wisdom, or the leadings 
of Providence, and have formed the whole into a constitution, the 
most perfect the world has ever witnessed. Here every thing 
that is rational in political liberty, is enjoyed; here the most 
salutary checks and restraints, that have yet been discovered, are 
laid upon men in office. 

11. Here the road to honor and wealth is open to all ; and here 
is general intelligence. But here man is found to possess the 



COBB'S SPEAKEK. 299 

same nature as elsewhere. And the stirrings of his restless spirit 
have already disturbed the peace of society, and portend future 
convulsions. Party spirit is begotten ; ambitious views are en- 
gendered, and fed, and inflamed ; many are running the race for 
office ; rivals are envied ; characters are aspersed ; animosities are 
enkindled ; and the whole community are disturbed by the elec- 
tioneering contest. 

12. No meanness is foregone, no calumny is too glaring, no 
venality is too base, when the mind is inflamed with strong desire, 
and elated with the hope of success, in the pursuit of some favorite 
object. And when the doubtful question is decided, it avails 
nothing. Disappointment sours the mind, and often produces the 
most bitter enmity and the most settled and systematic opposition, 
in the unsuccessful party ; while success but imperfectly satisfies 
the mind of the more fortunate. 

13. And if no other influence come in, to curb the turbulent 
spirits of men, besides that which is found in our general intelli- 
gence, and constitutional checks, probably, at no great distance of 
time, such convulsions may be witnessed in our now happy coun- 
try, as shall make the ears of him that heareth it tingle, and the 
eyes of him that seeth it weep blood. State may be arrayed 
against state, section against section, and party against party, till 
all the horrors of civil war may desolate our land. Are there no 
grounds for such fears ? 



LESSON CXI. 

FATHER MATHEW, GIVING THE TEMPERANCE PLEDGE AT THE 
TOMBS IN THE CITY OF NEW YORK. MRS. L. H. SIGOURNEY. 

1. It was a place of gloom, and Justice turned 
Her massy key between it and the w T orld 
Of busy men, and the rejoicing sun. 



300 COBB'S BP BAKER. 

Suffering was there, and Crime, and dark Remoi 
And the Beared Conscience, direr doom than iliey. 
Who entereth, with Buch kindness on his brow 

And pitying tone ? 

2. He eometh not to daunt 
The Bpirita in prison. He upbraideth not. 
He wringeth ool into the cup of shame 
The bitter gall-drop of self-righteous scorn, 
But with thai M ister's gentleness, who Bought 
And saved the lost; uplifts and Btira the fallen 
To strong resolve. ( Per the dead heart be breatl 
A living hope. 

3. Quick impulse moves the throng, 
As when a tree before the viewless winds 

Is rent and shaken. Here and there they bow, 
Humbled before him. Ji<', who fiercely Bel 
His tac«- like flint, 'gainst blame or punishment, 
And she, whose bold and bronzed cheek hath lost 
All teint of pure and tremulous womanhood, 
Feels that strange guest, a tear. Kneeling, they take 
The proffered vow, made firm by holy prayer, 
As from parental lips. 

4. Ah, good old man ! 

Such scenes as these, that give the angels joy, 
Have marked thy blessed course o'er many lands. 
Farewell ! We give thee thanks. God speed thy way, 
In safety o'er the main. 

5. Amid our clime, 
The zeal of thine apostleship remains, 

And deep thine image is enshrined in homes 
To which too long the husband and the sire 
Came as a fiend to desolate or slay ; 






COBB'S SPEAKEB. 301 

But now the infant climbeth to his knee, 
Fearless and fond ; the wintry hearth is bright, 
And by his side the trustful matron sits, 
A song of praise within her secret soul. 

6. These are thy trophies, with the web of life 
Meekly inwoven. And the laurel crown 
Of the blood-shedder, and the clarion blast 
Of loudest fame, were well exchanged for these 
When the strong angel with his trumpet sound 
Warns to the judgment. 

Hartford, Oct. 20, 1851. 



LESSON CXII. 



INSTABILITY OF LIFE. JOB. 



1. Man that is born of a woman is of few days, and full of 
trouble. 

He cometh forth like a flower, and is cut down : he fleeth also 
as a shadow and continueth not. 

And dost thou open thine eyes upon such a one, and bringest 
me into judgment with thee ? 

WTio can bring a clean thing out of an unclean ? not one. 

2. Seeing his days are determined, the number of his months are 
with thee, thou hast appointed his bounds that he can not pass ; 

Turn from him, that he may rest, till he shall accomplish, as a 
hireling, his day. 

3. For there is hope of a tree, if it be cut down, that it will 
sprout again, and that the tender branch thereof will not cease. 

Though the root thereof wax old in the earth, and the stock 
thereof die in the ground ; 

Yet through the scent of water it will bud, and bring forth 
boughs like a plant. « 



302 COBB"S SPEAK BS. 

4. But man dieth, and wasteth away ; yea, man giveth up the 
ghost, and where is he ? 

As the waters fail from the sea, and the flood decayeth and 
drieth up : 

So man lieth down, and riseth not : till the heavens be no more, 
they shall not awake, nor be raved out of their il 

5. O that thou would, si hide me in the grave, that thou 
wovldeatkeen meaee ro t, until thy wrath be past, that thou wovldeat 
appoint ma a aal tame, and remember mel 

If a man die, shall he live again I all the days of my appoints! 
time will I wait, till my change eome. 

G. Thou ahalt call, and I will answer thee : thou wilt have a 
desire to the work of thine hand-. 

For now thou numberest my steps : dost thou not watch over my 
sin? 

7. Mv transgression is sealed up in a bag, and thou sewest up 
mine iniquity. 

And surely the mountain falling cometh to naught, and the 
rock is removed out of his place. 

8. The waters wear the atones: thou washttt away the things 
which grow out of the dust of the earth, and thou destroyest the 
hope of man. 

Thou prevailest for ever against him, and he passeth : thou 
changest his countenance, and Beadeat him away. 

9. His sons come to honor, and he knoweth it not ; and they 
are brought low, but he perceiveth it not of them. 

But his flesh upon him shall have pain, and his soul within him 
shall mourn. 






LESSON CXIII. 

COMETS. INFORMATION FOR THE PEOPLE. 

1. Comets are light, vapory bodies, which move around the 
sun in orbits much less circular than those of the planets. Their 
orbits, in other words, are very long ellipses or ovals, having the 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 303 

sun near one of the ends. Comets usually have two parts, a body 
or nucleus, and a tail ; but some have a body only. 

2. The body appears as a thin, vapory, luminous mass, of glob- 
ular form ; it is so thin that, in some cases, the stars have been 
seen through it. The tail is a lighter or thinner luminous vapor, 
surrounding the body, and streaming out from it, in one direction. 

3. In ignorant ages, the sudden appearance of a comet in the 
sky never failed to occasion great alarm, both on account of its 
threatening appearance, and because it was considered as a sign 
that war, pestilence, or famine, was about to afflict mankind. 
Knowledge has dispelled all such fancies ; but yet we are not well 
acquainted with the nature of comets. 

4. Out of the great multitude, certainly not less than one thou- 
sand, which are supposed to exist, about one hundred and fifty 
have been made the subject of scientific observation. Instead of 
revolving, like the planets, nearly on the plane of the sun's equa- 
tor, it is found that they approach his body from all parts of sur- 
rounding space. At first they are seen slowly advancing, with a 
comparatively faint appearance. 

5. As they approach the sun, the motion becomes quicker, and 
at length they pass around him with very great rapidity, and at a 
comparatively small distance from his body. The comet of 1680 
approached within one sixth of his diameter. After passing, they 
are seen to emerge from his rays, with an immense increase to their 
former brilliancy and to the length of their tails. Their motion 
then becomes gradually slower, their brilliancy diminishes, and at 
length they are lost in distance. 

6. It has been ascertained that their movement around the sun 
is in accordance with the same law that regulates the planetary 
movements, being always the quicker the nearer to his body, and 
the slower the more distant. In the remote parts of space their 
motions must be extremely slow. 

1. Three comets have been observed to return, and their periods 
of revolution have been calculated. The most remarkable of these 
is one usually denominated Halley's comet, from the astronomer 
who first calculated its period. It revolves about the sun in 



304 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

about seventy-five yean, its last appearance being at the close of 
1835. 

8. Another, called Enke's comet, from Professor Enke, of Ber- 
lin, lias been found to revolve once in one thousand two hundred 
and seven days, or three and one third years; but in this case the 
revolving body is found, at each successive approach to the ran, to 
be a lin!.; earlier than on tin- previous occasion, showing thai its 
orbit is graduallj lessening, so that it may be expected ultimately 
to fall into the sun. 

'.». The third, Darned Bella's comet, from Mr. Belia, of Joseph- 
stadt, revolves around the sua in Bix and three quarter years. It ia 

mall, and baa no tail [n L832 this cornel passed thi 
the earth's path about a month before the arrival of our planet at 
the same point If the earth had been a month earlier a* that 
point, or the comet a month later in crossing it. tin- two bodies 
would have been brought together, 

10. Comets are often affected in their motions by the attraction 
of the planets. Jupiter, in particular, has been described by aa 
astronomer aa a perpetual stumbling-block in their way* In 1770, 
a cornel got entangled amidat the satellites of that planet, and was 
thereby thrown out of its usual course, while the motions wen not 
in the least affected. 

11. Comets often pass unobserved, in consequence *A the parts 
of the heavens in which they move being then under daylight 
During a total eclipse of the sun, which happened sixty yean be- 
fore Christ, a large comet not formerly .seen, became visible near 
the body of the obscured luminary. On many occasions their 
smallness and distance render them visible only by the aid of the 
telescope. On other occasions, they appear of vast size. 

12. The comet now called Halley's, at its appearance in 145G, 
covered a sixth part of the visible extent of the heavens, and was 
likened to a Turkish cimeter. That of 1680, which was observed 
by Sir Isaac Newton, had a tail calculated to be one hundred and 
twenty-three millions of miles in length ; a space greater than the 
distance of the earth from the sun. There was a comet in 1 74 4 which 
bad six tails, spread out like a fan across a large space in the heavens. 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 305 

LESSON CXIV. 



MAGAZINE. 

1. This country is, in some respects, not so much one nation, as 
a union of many nations. So it has been from the beginning. 
Our history is not one. We do not look back to one nation as the 
land of our forefathers, but to many : to Sweden, to Denmark, to 
Holland, to France, to Scotland, to Ireland, to England. 

2. So it is now, at this present day, which is the very era of 
emigration to this country of emigrants. "We number our German 
citizens by millions, our Irish citizens by millions, and we have 
thousands of English, Scotch, and French birth. It is so with our 
pursuits in life, which are not one, nor are our interests, therefore, 
one. 

3. The sun, which, at its rising, glitters upon the fleets of com- 
merce and the rich marts of trade, climbing the Alleghanies, lights 
up the broad, green valley of the Mississippi, the bosom of the 
nation, teeming with future wealth and might, and fructifies the 
wheat-fields and corn-fields of the North, the tobacco-fields of 
Kentucky, the cotton, the rice, and sugar plantations of the South ; 
again, ascending a loftier mountain range than the Alleghanies, it 
brightens the dark forests of Oregon, and, cheering the log hut of 
the emigrant with the light which, in the morning, fell on the 
homesteads of New England, it sinks at last into the Pacific. 

4. Almost every climate and soil is within our borders. All 
Europe is our kindred. The great heart of America beats with a 
pulsation from the blood of almost every nation of Western 
Europe. A political microcosm in itself, the United States are 
well able, and are bound to feel a fraternal sympathy with all the 
world, and to proclaim and act upon the principle of the Brother- 
hood of Nations. 



306 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

LESSON CXV. 

BATTLE OF IIOIIENLINDEN. CAMPBELL. 

1. On Linden, when the sun was low, 
All bloodless lay th' untrodden snow, 
And dark as winter was the flow 

Of Lser, rolling rapidly. 

2. But linden saw another sight, 

When the drum beat, at dead of night, 
Commanding fires of death to light 
The darkness of ber acenery. 

3. "By torch and trumpet fast arrayed, 
Each horseman drew his battle blade, 
And furious every charger neighed, 

To join tin.' dreadful revelry. 

4. Then shook the hills with thunder riv'n, 

Then rushed the steed to battle driv'ii, 
And louder than the bolts of Heaven, 
Far flashed the red artillery. 

5. And redder yet those fires shall glow, 
On Linden's hills of blood-stained snow, 
And darker yet shall be the flow 

Of lser, rolling rapidly. 

6. 'Tis morn, but scarce yon lurid sun 
Can pierce the war-clouds, rolling dun, 
Where furious Frank, and fiery Hun, 

Shout midst their sulph'rous canopy. 

7. The combat deepens. On, ye brave, 
Who rush to glory, or the grave ! 
Wave, Munich, all thy banners wave ! 

And charge with all thy chivalry ! 






COBB'S SPEAKEK. 307 

Ah ! few shall part where many meet ! 
The snow shall be their winding-sheet, 
And every turf beneath their feet, 
Shall be a soldier's sepulchre. 



LESSON CXVI. 

OLD WYOMING. TALES OF THE REVOLUTION. 

1. The valley of the Susquehanna, at that point on which 
stands the town of Wilkesbarre, unites, with salubrity of atmo- 
sphere, an assemblage of beauties, rural and picturesque, seldom 
found within a compass so confined. A strip of fertile land on 
either side of the river, is terminated by a range of lofty moun- 
tains, whose blue tops, rising one above another, present a bold 
but romantic outline on the distant horizon. Beneath them flows 
the Susquehanna, not " unknown to song," whose distant wind- 
ings may be traced far away, as they peep out abruptly from be- 
hind some mountain outlet. 

2. No wonder that to this delightful spot the wishes of the 
sagacious aborigines should have been directed. No wonder that 
the white man should have found their wigwams rising up amidst 
the darkness of the wilderness, when his rapacious spirit first led 
him into this romantic region. Neither should we wonder that the 
all-grasping spirit which has consigned too many of their names 
to endless infamy, should have early incited them to dispossess 
the aboriginal proprietors of their peaceful homes ; and they suc- 
ceeded. 

3. Many years the whites had held undisturbed possession of 
the valley of Wyoming; had ploughed its fertile fields unmo- 
lested; levelled the traces of its ancient inhabitants, their wig- 
wams, and the burial-places of their chiefs and warriors, and 
changed it into a flourishing settlement, when that tremendous 
struggle for liberty, the revolutionary war, scattered over this 



;:aker. 

v the fii ■ - i. The |>eople 

.ividedon the inonientou- 
and tory distinction- - 

4. Those devoted to the in »ug 

E» the surrounding tribes of Iudians, whom they inrifci 
and deadly revenge. In the 

heir numbers gradually increased, and their r 

1. J-..hn Butler, 
'■ulou Bui g :itl-.-maii who TO in c.-in- 

_ 
o. The commencement of the year had fin 

t m the time 

the cunning policy of in. 3 urity 

tl messengers came in from the hostile tril 
with ■mu i M CBB I "itler him- 

. a numerous as- _ _ 1. in their peeu- 

•hat be wh 

lo any tl. Their dea _ 

■ ■ • I ; and, it is said that re de- 

_ 36 _ v the dan- 

• which they were exposed. I - 1 we unfortunately 

inters - .ania. Meanwhile, the inhab- 

. for tlieir security, took refuge in their : 
On the first of July, a body, supposed to be nea 
hund: I el _. composed of about three hundred Indian-, led by 
their own chiefs, and a number of tones painted like Indians, un- 
der the command of Col. John Butler, broke into the Wyoming 
-lent, and obtained easy possession of one of the two upper 
which, being garrisoned, as it is alleged, chiefly by concealed 
ivered up without opposition; the other was 
taken. 

7. The two principal forts, Kingston and Wilkesbarre, were 
each other, on the opposite sides of the river. Col. Zebulon 
r r marched into Kingston with the greatest part of the armed 



COBB'S SPEAKEK. 309 

force of the country, and a number of women and children took 
refuge in the same place. After rejecting a summons to surren- 
der, he proposed a parley, and a place at some distance from the 
fort was agreed on for a meeting of the chiefs. He marched out 
with four hundred men, to the place appointed, where no person 
was found on the part of the enemy ; but, at a still greater dis- 
tance from the fort, at the foot of a mountain, a flag was exhibited, 
which retired as he approached, as if apprehensive of danger from 
the enemy. 

8. Col. Butler continued to advance until he found himself al- 
most enveloped by the enemy, who ran and fired on him. Not- 
withstanding the effect to be expected from such circumstances, 
his troops displayed such a degree of firmness, and acquitted 
themselves with so much resolution, that the advantage was rather 
on their side, when a soldier, either through treachery or cowardice, 
cried out, " The colonel has ordered a retreat." 

9. Immediately confusion was succeeded by a total rout. The 
troops fled towards the river, which they endeavored to pass, in 
order to enter fort Wilkesbarre ; the enemy pursued " with the 
fury of devils," and of the four hundred who had marched out 
on this unfortunate parley, only about twenty escaped. Fort 
Kingston was immediately invested ; and, to increase the terror 
of the garrison, and impress on them the horrors of their situation, 
the bleeding scalps of their murdered countrymen were sent in for 
their inspection. 

10. Col. Zebulon Butler having withdrawn himself and family 
down the river, Col. Dennison, the commanding officer, went out 
to inquire of the officer commanding the besiegers, what terms 
would be allowed the garrison on surrendering the fort. Uniting 
to Spartan brevity more than cannibal ferocity, this tutored sav- 
age answered in two words, " The hatchet." 

11. Having lost a great part of his garrison, being unable to 
hold out longer, and not supposing it possible that the unresisting 
could be coolly and deliberately massacred, Col. Dennison surren- 
dered at discretion. He misunderstood the character of those into 
whose hands he had fallen. The threat of Butler was executed 



310 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

with scrupulous punctuality. After selecting a few prisoners, the 
great body of the people in the fort were enclosed in the houses, 
fire was applied to them, and they were consumed together. 

12. Butler then passed over to Wilkesbarre, which was surren- 
dered without resistance. The effort to mollify the revengeful 
fury which governed him was unavailing. The continental sol- 
diers, amounting to about seventy, were hacked to pieces. Hie 
remaining men, with the women and children, shared the fate of 
their brethren in Kingston ; they perished in the flames. All 
show of resistance was now terminated, but the ruin contemplated 
was not yet complete. Near three thousand person^ had escaped 
living without money, clothes, or food, they .-ought for safety in 
the interior country. 

13. To prevent their returning, every thing remaining behind 
them was doomed to destruction. Fire and the sword were alter- 
nately applied ; and, all the houses and improvements which the 
labor of years had provided, as well as every living animal which 
could be found, were destroyed. The settlements of the tones 
alone were preserved. They appeared, says Mr. Gordon, as islands 
in the midst of surrounding ruin. 

14. Some peculiar instances of barbarity have been related in 
the details given of this expedition, at which human nature recoils. 
Parents were murdered by their children, and brothers and sisters 
fell by the hands of brothers. Of such crimes are men capable, 
when the torch of civil discord is once lighted, and all the endear- 
ing social ties which sweeten life are made to yield to political 
fury ! The incursions of irregulars may be often repeated, but are 
seldom of long duration. The invaders of Wyoming withdrew 
from the countiy which they had thus laid waste before the ar- 
rival of the continental troops which were detached to meet them. 

15. Even at this distant day, there remain a few survivers of 
this awful and heart-rending visitation. A few who went out 
with Col. Zebulon Butler, to meet the deceitful flag of truce, and who 
escaped, still repeat the harrowing events of that terrible catastrophe. 
Their relations of it should be preserved ; for, the time will soon 
arrive when the departing worthies of those iron times will be 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 311 

no more among us. One by one they depart, leaving those who 
survive, a bright and almost sacred charge for their descendants to 
console and cherish. 



LESSON CXVII. 

THE PRISONER'S ADDRESS TO HIS MOTHER. C. M. 

[During our visit to the Massachusetts State Prison some time since, the 
Warden spoke with deep interest of a Prisoner whose talents as a Poet 
had excited much attention. "We find the following lines from his pen in 
" The Prisoner's Friend." Our readers will agree with us in pronouncing 
them very beautiful. — Editor Tribune, New York, Feb. 14, 1846.] 

1. I've wandered far from thee, mother, 

Far from our happy home ; 
I 've left the land that gave me birth, 

In other climes to roam ; 
And Time, since then, has rolled his years, 

And marked them on my brow ; 
Yet still, I 've often thought of thee, 

I'm thinking of thee now. 

2. I 'm thinking of those days, mother, 

When, with such earnest pride, 
You watched the dawnings of my youth, 

And pressed me to your side ; 
Then love had filled my trusting heart 

With hopes of future joy, 
And thy bright fancy honors wove 

To deck thy " darling boy." 

3. I 'm thinking on the day, mother, 

I left thy watchful care, 
When thy fond heart was lifted 
To Heaven, thy trust was there ; 



312 COBB'S SI'KA k B K. 

And memory brings thy parting w 
When tears fell o'er thy cheek ; 
But thy last loving, anxious look, 

Told more than words could speak. 

4. I'm far away from thee, mother, 

No friend is near me now, 
To sooth me with i tender word, 

Nor cool my burning brow ; 
The dearest ti»-> affection wove 

Are all now torn from me ; 
They left me when the trouble came, 

They did not love like thee. 

5. I would not have thee know, mother, 

How brightest hopes decay, 
The tempter, with his baneful cup, 

lias dashed them all away ; 
And shame has lefl its venomed sting, 

To rack with anguish wild ! 
'Twould grieve thy tender heart to know 

The sorrows of thy child. 

G. I 'm lonely and forsaken now, 

Unpitied and unblest ; 
Yet still, I would not have thee know 

How sorely I 'm distressed ; 
I know thou wouldst not chide, mother, 

Thou wouldst not give me pain, 
But cheer me with thy softest words, 

And bid me hope again. 

V. I know thy tender heart, mother, 
Still beats as warm for me, 
As w T hen I left thee, long ago, 
To cross the broad blue sea ; 






COBB'S SPEAKER. 313 

And I love thee just the same, mother, 

And I long to hear thee speak, 
And feel again thy balmy breath 

Upon my care-worn cheek. 

But ah ! there is a thought, mother, 

Pervades my beating breast, 
That thy freed spirit may have flown 

To its eternal rest ; 
And, as I wipe the tear away, 

There whispers in mine ear 
A voice, that speaks of Heaven and thee, 

And bids me seek thee there. 



LESSON CXVIII. 

THE SETTLEMENT OF NEW ENGLAND. WEBSTER. 

1. The settlement of Few England, by the colony which landed 
here on the twenty-second of December, sixteen hundred and 
twenty, although not the first European establishment in what now 
constitutes the United States, was yet so peculiar in its causes and 
character, and has been followed, and must still be followed, by 
such consequences, as to give it a high claim to lasting com- 
memoration. 

2. On these causes and consequences, more than on its imme- 
diately attendant circumstances, its importance, as an historical 
event, depends. Great actions and striking occurrences, having 
excited a temporary admiration, often pass away and are forgotten, 
because they leaye no lasting results, affecting the prosperity of 
communities. Such is frequently the fortune of the most brilliant 
military achievements. 

3. Of the ten thousand battles which have been fought ; of all 
the fields fertilized with carnage ; of the banners which have been 

14 



31-i COBB'S SPEAK BR. 

bathed in blood; of the warriors who have hoped thai they bad 
risen from the field of conquest to a glory as bright and as durable 
as the stars, how few that continue Long to interest mankind] 
The victory of yesterday ia reversed by the defeat of to-day; the 
atarof military glory, rising like a meteor, like a meteor baa fallen ; 
disgrace and disaster hang on the heels of conquest and renown ; 
victor and vanquished presently pass away to oblivion, and the 
world holds on it- course, with the loss of bo many lives, and so 
much treasure. 

4. But if this ia frequently, or generally, the fortune of military 
achievements, it ia not always so. There are enterprises, military 
as well aa civil, that sometimes check the current of events, a 

in m turn to human affaire, and transmit their consequences through 
their importance in their results, and call them 
great, because great things follow. 

5. There have been battles which have fixed the fate of nations. 
These c >me down to us in history with a solid and permanent in- 
fluence, not created by a display of glittering armor, the rush of 
advease battalions, the sinking and rising of pennons, the flight, the 
pursuit, and the victory; but by their effect in advancing or re- 
tarding human know! dge, in overthrowing or establishing despo- 
tism, in extending or destroying human happiness. 

G. When the traveller pauses on the plain- of Marathon, what 
are the emotions which strongly agitate his breast \ What ia that 
glorious recollection that thrills through his frame, and Buffuaee his 
eye? Not, T imagine, that Grecian skill and Grecian valor were 
here most signally displayed ; but that Greece herself was saved. 

V. It is because to this spot, and to the event which has rendered 
it immortal, he refers all the succeeding glories of the republic. It 
is because, if that day had gone otherwise, Greece had perished. It 
is because he perceives that her philosophers and orators, her poets 
and painters, her sculptors and architects, her government and free 
institutions, point backward to Marathon ; and that their future 
existence seems to have been suspended on the contingency, whether 
the Persian or Grecian banner should wave victorious in the beams 
of that day's setting sun. 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 315 

8. And, as his imagination kindles at the retrospect, he is 
transported back to the interesting moment ; he counts the fearful 
odds of the contending hosts ; his interest for the result overwhelms 
him ; he trembles as if it were still uncertain, and seems to doubt 
whether he may consider Socrates and Plato, Demosthenes, Sopho- 
cles, and Phidias, as secure, yet, to himself and to the world. 

9. " If we conquer," said the Athenian commander on the 
morning of that decisive day, " if we conquer, we shall make Athens 
the greatest city of Greece." A prophecy, how well fulfilled ! 

10. "If God prosper us," might have been the more appro- 
priate language of our fathers, when they landed upon this rock ; 
" if God prosper us, we shall here begin a work that shall last for 
ages ; we shall plant here a new society, in the principles of full 
liberty, and the purest religion ; we shall subdue this wilderness 
which is before us ; we shall fill this region of the great continent, 
which stretches almost from pole to pole, with civilization and 
Christianity ; the temples of the true God shall rise where now as- 
cends the smoke of idolatrous sacrifice ; fields and gardens, the 
flowers of summer, and the waving and golden harvests of autumn, 
shall extend over a thousand hills, and stretch along a thousand 
valleys, never yet, since the creation, reclaimed to the use of 
civilized man. 

11. " We shall whiten this coast with the canvass of a prosper- 
ous commerce ; we shall stud the long and winding shore with a 
hundred cities. That which we sow in weakness shall be raised in 
strength. 

12. "From our sincere, but houseless worship, there shall 
spring splendid temples to record God's goodness ; from the sim- 
plicity of our social union, there shall arise wise and politic con- 
stitutions of government, full of the liberty which we ourselves bring 
and breathe ; from our zeal for learning, institutions shall spring, 
which shall scatter the light of knowledge throughout the land, 
and, in time, paying back what they have borrowed, shall con- 
tribute their part to the great aggregate of human knowledge ; 
and our descendants, through all generations, shall look back to 
this spot, and this hour, with unabated affection and regard." 



316 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

LESSON CXIX. 

THE RETURN OF SPRING. BAYARD TAYLOR. 

1. The anxious crisis of the Spring was past, 

And warmth was master o'er the lingering cold. 
The alder's catkins dropped ; the maple cast 

His crimson bloom, the willow's downy gold 
Blew wide, and softer than a squirrel's ear, 
The white oak's foxy leaves began to appear. 

2. There was a motion in the soil A sound 

Lighter than foiling seed-, Bhooik out of flowers, 
Exhaled where dead leares, sodden on the ground, 

Repressed the eager grass ; and there for hours 
Osseo lay, and \ainly strove to bring 
Into his mind the miracle of Spring. 

3. The wood-birds knew it, and their voices rang 

Around his lodge ; with many a dart and whirr 
Of saucy joy, tin- shrewish cat-bird sang 

Full-throated, and he heard the kingfisher, 
Who from his God escaped with rumpled crest, 
And the white medal still upon his breast. 

4. The aquelegia sprinkled on the rocks 

A scarlet rain ; the yellow violet 
Sat in the chariot of its leaves ; the phlox 

Held spikes of purple flame in meadows wet, 
And all the streams with vernal-scented reed 
Were fringed, and streaky bells of miskodeed. 



COBB'S SPEAKEE. 317 

LESSON CXX. 

CAPILLARY ATTRACTION. LIBRARY OF USEFUL KNOWLEDGE. 

1. It is the general rule, that no liquid can of itself rise higher 
»n the inside of a tube than it stands on the outside ; but there is 
an exception to this rule which requires to be explained. 

2. If a drop of water, or any liquid of a like degree of fluidity, 
be pressed upon a solid surface, it will wet that surface and stick 
to it, instead of keeping together, and running off when the sur- 
face is held sloping. This shows that the parts of the liquid are 
more attracted by the parts of the solid than by one another. In 
the same manner, if you observe the edge of any liquid in a vessel, 
as wine in a glass, and note where it touches the glass, you will 
see that it is not quite level close to the glass, but becomes some- 
what hollow, and is raised upon it, so as to stand a little higher 
at the edge than in the middle and other parts of its surface. 

3. It appeal's, therefore, that there is an attraction, at very small 
distances from the edge, sufficient to suspend the part of the fluid 
near it, and prevent it from sinking to the level of the rest. Sup- 
pose the wine-glass to be diminished, so as to leave no room for 
any of the wine in the middle which lies flat and level, but only 
to leave room for the small rim of liquor raised up all around on 
the side of the glass ; in other words, suppose a very small tube, 
placed with its lower end just so as to touch the liquor ; it is 
evident that the liquor will stand up somewhat higher in the tube 
than on the outside, and if the tube be made smaller and smaller, 
the liquor wall rise higher, there being always less weight of liquid 
to counterbalance the attraction of the glass. 

4. Tubes of this very small bore are called capillary, from a 
Latin word signifying hair, because they are small, like hairs. 
Generally, any tube of less than l-20th of an inch diameter in the 
inside is a capillary tube ; and if it is placed so as to touch the 
surface of water, the water will rise in it to a height which is 
greater the smaller the bore of the tube is. If the diameter of the 
tube is 1-5 Oth part of an inch, the water will rise to the height of 



318 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

one inch; if it be one l-100tli, the water will rise two inches; if 
l-200th, the water will rise four inches, and so on in proportion as 
the bore is lessened. 

5. The action of the tubes upon liquids depends, however, it must 
be recollected, upon the nature of the solid substances of which 
they are made. If the glass is smeared with grease so that the 
water will not stick to it, the Liquid will not rise at all. So,difierent 
liquids rise to different heights in the same tube, but not accord- 
ing t<> their specific gravity. Mercury does not rise at all; on 
the contrary, it sinks considerably lower than its level outride the 
tube. 

6. Capillary attraction performs many important offi< ■< 
nature. Probably the distribution of moisture in the earth is reg- 
ulated by it ; and there is no doubt that the distribution of the 
juices in plants depends principally upon it. The rise of the 
sap and its circulation is performed in the fine capillary tubes of 
the wood and bark, which are the arteries and veins of vegetables. 
Any one may perceive how this process is performed, by twisting 
together several threads of cotton or worsted, and wetting them. 
If they are then put in a glass of any colored fluid, as red wine or 
ink, and allowed to hang down to the plate on which the glass 
stands, the fluid will soon be perceived to creep up, and color the 
whole of the threads, red or black, as the case may be ; and in a 
short time the whole contents of the glass will come over into the 
plate. 

V. Capillary tubes may in this manner cany juices upwards, 
and distribute them through plants. The juice, it is true, can not 
be so carried from a lower to a higher level in a capillary tube, 
and flow out from the top ; but it may be carried upwards in one, 
and then flow horizontally into others ; and from these it may be 
carried upwards again in a third set of tubes ; or it may be carried 
in any direction by capillary syphons. Spongy bodies act in all 
probability on liquids in the same manner, by means of a great 
number of extremely small capillary tubes, of which their substance 
is entirely composed. 



COBB'S SPEAKEB. 819 

LESSON CXXI. 

MISTAKES IN PERSONAL IDENTITY. DICKENS' HOUSEHOLD WORDS. 

1. There is no kind of evidence more infirm in its nature, and 
against which jurymen on legal trials should be more on their 
guard, than that involving identity of person. The number of per- 
sons who resemble each other is not inconsiderable in itself ; but, 
the number is very large of persons who, though very distinguish- 
able when standing side by side, are yet sufficiently alike to deceive 
those who are without the means of immediate comparison. 

2. Early in life, an occurrence impressed me with the danger of 
relying on the most confident belief of identity. I was at Vaux- 
hall Gardens, where I thought I saw, at a short distance, an old 
country gentleman whom I highly respected, and whose favor 1 
should have been sorry to lose. I bowed to him, but obtained no 
recognition. 

3. In those days the company amused themselves by walking 
around in a circle, some in one direction, some in the opposite, by 
which means every one saw and was seen ; I say in those days, 
because I have not been at Vauxhall for a quarter of a century. 
In performing these rounds I often met the gentleman, and tried 
to attract his attention, until I became convinced that either his 
eyesight was so weakened that he did not know me, or that he 
chose to disown my acquaintance. 

4. Some time afterward, going into the county in which he re- 
sided, I received, as usual, an invitation to dinner ; this led to an 
explanation, when my friend assured me he had not been in Lon- 
don for twenty years. I afterward met the person whom I had 
mistaken for my old friend, and wondered how I could have fallen 
into the error. 

5. I can only explain it by supposing that, if the mind feels 
satisfied of identity, which it often does at the first glance, it ceases 
to investigate that question, and occupies itself with other matters; 
as in my case, where my thoughts ran upon the motives my friend 
might have for not recognising me, instead of employing them- 



320 COBB'S sim: a I I R, 

selves on the question of whether or do the individual before my 
eyes was indeed the person I took him for. 

C. It I had had to give evidence on this matter my mistake 
would have been the more dangerous, as I had full meai 
knowledge. The pi 11 lighted, the interviews w. i 

1, and my mind was undisturbed. How often have! known 
: identity acted upon by juries, where the witness 
was in a much less favorable position, foi beervation, than 

mine. 

7. Sometimes, a mistaken verdict is avoided by independent 
evidence. Rarely, however, is this i imina- 
tion, even when conducted with adequate Bkill and experience. 
The belief of the witness is belief in a matter of opinion resulting 
from a combination of facta so Blight and unimp irtant, separately 
considered, thai they rarnish no handle t<> tip' croes^iaminei 
striking case of tlii-> kind ocean t<> mj i o, with which I 
will concli 

8. A prisoner was endicted for shooting at the prosecutor, with 
intent to kill him. The prosecutor swore that tin- prisoner bad de- 
manded bis money, and that upon refusal or delay, to comply 
with hi- requisition, he fired a pistol, by tin- Bash of which liis 
countenance became perfectly % i^i I il< • ; the shot did 

and tlw prisoner made off 

9. Hen- the recognition was momentary, and the prosecutor 
could hardly have been in an undisturb of mind, yet the 
confidence of his belief made a Btrong impression on all who heard 
the evidence, and probably would have sealed the fate of the pris- 
oner without til-' aid of an additional fact of very slight impor- 
tance, which waSj however, put in evidence, by way of corroboration, 
that the prisoner, who was a stranger to the neighborhood, had 
been seen passing near the spot in which the attack was made 
about noon of the same day. The judge belonged to a class now, 
thank God ! obsolete, who always acted on the reverse of the con- 
stitutional maxim, and considered every man guilty until lie was 
proved to be innocent. 

10. If the case had closed without witnesses on behalf of the 



COBB'S SPEAKEE. 321 

prisoner, his life would have been gone ; fortunately he possessed 
the means of employing an able and zealous attorney ; and more 
fortunately, it so happened that several hours before the attack the 
prisoner had mounted upon a coach, and was many miles from 
the scene of the crime at the hour of its commission. 

11. With great labor, and at considerable expense, all the pas- 
sengers were sought out, and, with the coachman and guard, were 
brought int^ ?--?rt, and testified to the presence among them of 
the prisoner. An alibi is always a suspected defence, and by no 
man was ever more suspiciously watched than by this judge. But 
when witness after witness appeared, their names corresponding 
exactly with the way-bill produced by the clerk of a respectable 
coach-office, the most determined skepticism gave way, and the 
prisoner was acquitted by acclamation. 

12. He was not, however, saved by his innocence, but by his 
good fortune. How frequently does it happen to us all to be 
many hours at a time without having witnesses to prove our ab- 
sence from one spot by our presence at another ! And how many 
of us are too prone to avail ourselves of such proof in the instance 
where it may exist ! 



LESSON CXXII. 



FORMATION OF CHARACTER. EXTRACTS FROM AN ADDRESS OF 

PRESIDENT HOW, TO THE GRADUATES OF DICKINSON COLLEGE. 

1. The great end of education, as you have been reminded, is 
the formation of character ; of a character marked by lofty, intel- 
lectual, and moral excellence. On the formation of such a char- 
acter greatly depends your usefulness and honor through life, and 
the reward for well doing which in the world to come you will re- 
ceive from your righteous Judge. 

2. A mind richly fraught with knowledge, and a heart deeply 
imbued with the fear of God and the love of virtue, bestow on 

14* 



322 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

oharacter a loveliness, an elevatioo and grandeur that can b 

livid from no other resources : and happy indeed aha]] we e 
ourselves, it" our instructions ami counsels have awakened in your 
bosoms a fixed determination to ><rk Buch high endowment 

3. The period at which y<>u enter en the theatre of action is 
one of unusual excitement and effort in every part of the world. 
Great changes are taking place in the physical, the inteil 
and moral condition of mankind; a feverish restlessness seem to 
pervade every rank and every nation; and mighty conflicting 
en >rgi< - are al work, which threaten to alter the whole aspect of 
ty. 

\. Under Bucb cafcumstances, we new with deep interest the 
entrance of every new actor on the troubled scene. To yon we 
look as the future guardians of the Institutions of your country ; 
the patrons and protectors of its freedom, its science and its moral-. 
They who now occupy the chief stations in the great drama of life, 
■will soon pass away, and their places be vacated by death, while 
you will be called forward to till them. A liberal education gives 
to its possessor incalculable advantages, and is of inestimable 
worth. 

5. By enlarging and invigorating the mind, it qualifies for do- 
ing great good or great mischief; and no one can calculate the 
amount of influence which yon may exert, or of good which yon 
mav perform. Aspire then to distinguished usefulness. Sutler not 
your present attainments to be lost and your talents to become 
enfeebled by sloth ; but fit yourselves for acting a high, dignified, 
and useful part in life. 

G. To qualify yourselves for thus acting, you must be willing 
to undergo that labor and previous preparation, without which no 
superior excellence was ever obtained. No talents, however e 
did, nor wealth, nor worldly connexions and influence, can ever 
compensate for the absence of these ; and with these you may ac- 
complish almost every thing. 

V. The amount of influence to which you may attain, and of 
good which you will accomplish, will greatly depend on the culti- 
vation which you bestow upon your mind, and the amount c e 






COBB'S SPEAKER. 823 

knowledge you acquire. We hope that none of you think that 
you have now completed your studies. You have just begun them. 

8. All that hitherto we have been able to accomplish ; indeed, 
all that we have aimed at, is, to teach you how to study, and to 
spread out before you the wide extent of the field of science on 
which you have just entered. The amount of your future attain- 
ments will depend upon yourselves. You can make yourselves 
almost what you please. Moderate talents, with unremitting, 
well-directed effort, will effect astonishing improvement. 

9. It will soon be necessary for you to select a profession for 
life. Whatever that profession may be, choose it with delibera- 
tion, with the advice of your parents, and with prayer to the Fa- 
ther of lights for his direction ; and when you have once chosen 
it, enter on it with a fixed determination to excel ; with ardent 
attachment to it ; with pure motives, and with elevated views. I 
trust that each of you will aim at distinction and eminence in his 
profession ; and be assured that nothing will conduce more to this 
than a thorough acquaintance with it in all its departments, and 
with every branch of science that belongs to it. 

10. Let me advise you not to enter on it too early and without 
suitable preparation. A too great eagerness to enter on public life 
is perhaps characteristic of our youth. They do not sufficiently 
appreciate the importance of rich intellectual furniture ; and hence 
instead of appearing with the majesty and vigor of intellectual 
giants, too many pass through life puny and feeble dwarfs. No 
stable and magnificent edifice can be erected on a scanty and weak 
foundation, and no great eminence can be attained without those 
thorough acquirements which result from close study. 

11. In aiming to arrive at eminence you must expect difficulties 
and discouragements. The indolent will be displeased at your in- 
dustry, and as they are unwilling to submit to the labor which is 
necessary to place them on an equality with you, they will en- 
deavor by misrepresentation to draw you down to a level with 
them ; they will attempt to excuse their own indolence by repre- 
senting you as ambitious, proud, and aspiring. 

12. Rivals will oppose and thwart you, and envy and jealousy 



324 C O B B S SPEAKER 

will often detract fh m your merits. Expect these thingp sod dU- 
! diem. Pursue your way straight onward in the path of 
duty, and you will overcome every obstacle that envy, and jeal 
ousy, and malice, and miarepresentatioo may oppose to you. 

\'). But, besides ■ thorough acquaintance with your profcswoi 
in all its departments, endeavor to acquire ■ rich store ofvarioui 
knowledge. Knowledge is now so generally diffused among ail 

j , and the field i ce which modern d 

eries and improvements have opened, are bo very extensive, that a 
man must high attainment to distinction. 

14. Bui where thie 1, ii greatlj 

respectability and influence, an I ability to I • 

others. A truly learned man ran never be contemptible without 
his own fault : either through vicious habits and indu 
through the adoption of had principles. Learning i 
greater dignity than wealth: it Boftens, refines, and adorns the 
character: it gives liberal, I elevated views and 

• nd is a lource of pure and lasting pleasure. 



LESSON CXXIII. 

APOSTROPHE TO MONT BLANC. COLERIDGE. 

1. Hast thou a charm to stay the morning star 
In his steep course ? So long he seems to pause 
On thy bald, awful bead, oh sovereign Blanc ! 
The Arne, and the Arveiron at thy base 
Rave ceaselessly, while thou, dread mountain form, 
Risest from forth thy silent sea of pines, 
How silently ! Around thee and above, 
Deep is the sky and black : transpicuous deep, 
An ebon mass ! Methinks thou piercest it, 
As with a wedge ! but when I look again, 
It seems thine own calm home, thy crystal shrine, 
Thy habitation from eternity. 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 325 

2. Oh dread and silent form ! I gazed on thee, 
Till thou, still present to my bodily eye, 

Didst vanish from my thought. Entranced in prayer, 

I worshipped the Invisible alone ; 

Yet thou, methinks, wast working on my soul, 

E'en like some deep, enchanting melody, 

So sweet, we know not we are listening to it. 

3. But I awake, and with a busier mind, 
And active will, self-conscious, offer now, 
Not as before, involuntary prayer, 

And passive adoration. 

Hand and voice, 
Awake, awake ! and thou, my heart, awake ! 
Green fields and icy cliffs, all join my hymn ! 
And thou, silent mountain, sole and bare, 
! blacker than the darkness, all the night, 
And visited all night by troops of stai-s, 
Or when they climb the sky, or when they sink, 
Companion of the morning star at dawn, 
Thyself earth's rosy star, and of the dawn 
Co-herald ! wake, oh wake, and utter praise ! 

4. Who sank thy sunless pillars in the earth ? 
"Who filled thy countenance with rosy light ? 
Who made thee father of perpetual streams ? 
And you, ye five wild torrents, fiercely glad, 
Who called you forth from night and utter death ? 
From darkness let you loose, and icy dens, 

Down those precipitous, black, jagged rocks, 
For ever shattered, and the same for ever ? 
Who gave you invulnerable life, 
Your strength, your speed, your fury, and your joy, 
Unceasing thunder and eternal foam ? 

5. And who commanded, and the silence came, 

" Here shall the billows stiffen and have rest ?" 



326 COBB'S SPEAKKi:. 

Ye ice-falls ! ye that from yon dizzy height* 
Adown enormous ravines steeply slope; 
Torrents, methinks, that heard a mighty noise, 
And stopped at once, amidst their maddest plunge, 
Motionless torrents ! silent cataracts ! 

6. Who made you glorious as the gates of heaves 
Beneath the keen full moon? Who bade the sun 
Clothe you with rainbows? Who, with lovely flowers 
Of living bine, sp read garlands at your feet ? 

God! God! the torrents like a shout of nations 
Utter; the ice-plain bursts, and answers, God! 
God! sing the meadow-streams with gladsome v* 
And pine groves with their soft and soul-like sound: 
The silent snow-mass, loosening, thunders, God ! 

7. Ye dreadless flowers, that fringe the eternal frost ! 
Ye wild goats, bounding by the eagle's nest! 

xe eagles, playmates of the mountain blast] 
Ye lightnings, the dread arrows of the cloud ! 
Ye signs and wonders of the elements, 
Utter forth God ! and fill the hills with praise ! 

8. And thou, oh silent form, alone and bare, 
Whom, as I lift again my head, bowed low 
In silent adoration, I again behold, 

And to thy summit upward from thy base 
Sweep slowly, with dim eyes suffused with tears ; 
Awake, thou mountain form ! Rise, like a cloud ; 
Rise, like a cloud of incense from the earth ! 
Thou kingly spirit throned among the hills ! 
Thou dread ambassador from earth to heaven, 
Great hierarch ! tell thou the silent sky, 
And tell the stars, and tell the rising sun, 
Earth, with her thousand voices, calls on God ! 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 327 

LESSON CXXIV. 

THE DIVING BELL. DR. LARDNER. 

1. The spirit of inquiry which so strongly characterizes the human 
mind, and which stimulates man to undertakings in which life 
itself is imminently risked, has not only prompted him to ascend 
into the regions of the air, but has also carried him to the depths 
of the sea. 

2. The practice of diving is of very early origin, and was first 
probably adopted for the recovery of articles of value dropped into 
the water at small depths. Instances are recorded of persons 
having acquired by practice the habit of enduring submersion for 
a length of time which, in many cases, seems astonishing, and in 
others altogether incredible. Indeed, the circumstances attending 
most of these narrations bear unequivocal marks of fiction. 

3. The gratification of a taste for the marvellous does not 
tempt us to allow a space in our pages for a description of the 
feats of the Sicilian diver, whose chest was so capacious that by 
one inspiration he could draw in sufficient air to last him a whole 
day, during which time he would sojourn at the bottom of the sea, 
and who became so inured to the water, that it was almost a 
matter of indifference to him whether he walked on dry land or 
swam in the deep, remaining often for five days in the sea, living 
upon the fish which he caught ! 

4. Various attempts were made to assist the diver by enabling 
him to carry down a supply of air ; and after a long period and 
gradual improvements, suggested by experience, the present diving 
bell was produced. This machine depends for its efficacy on that 
quality in air which is common to all material substances, impene- 
trability ; that is, the total exclusion of all other bodies from the 
space in which it is present. 

5. The diving bell is a large vessel closed at the sides and at the 
top, but open at the bottom. It should be perfectly impenetrable 
to air and water. When such a machine, with its mouth, down- 
wards, is pressed into the water by sufficient weights suspended 



328 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

from it, the air contained in it at the surface will be enclosed by 
1 1 i « • -ides, the top, and the surface of the Water which enters the 
mouth of the machine. As it descends in the liquid, the air 
enclosed in it is subject to the pressure, which increases in propor- 
tion bo the depth, and by virtue of its elasticity will beoom 
densed in proportion to tin- pressure, 

G. Thus at the depth of about 84 feet, the hvdi-.--t.ttir p* 
will be equal to that of tie- atmosphere; and since the air at the 
Burface of the water is under the atmospheric pressure, it will !><-, 
affected by double the pressure at the depth of -;t feet It will, 
therefore, be condensed bo much a- to !><• reduced to half it- 
nal dimensions. Half the capacity <>f the machine will, thai 

he filled with water, and the Other half will contain all the air 

which filled the machine at the momenl of it> immersion. As the 

depth is increased, the space occupied by the air in the bell will be 
proportionally diminished. 

7. It 18 well known that if an animal continue to respire in a 
space from which a fresh supply of atmospheric air is excluded, 

the air confined in tie- space will, at length, become unfit for the 

support of life. This is owing to an effect produced upon the air 
drawn into the lungs, by which when breathed it contains carbonic 
acid, an ingredient not present in the natural atmosphere, and 
which is highly destructive to animal life.* 

8. When the air in which the animal is confined has been 
breathed for a length of time, this effect being repeated, the air 
enclosed becomes highly impregnated with this gas ; and if its 
escape be not allowed, and a fresh supply of atmospheric air 
admitted, the animal can not live. If, therefore, a diving bell be 
used to enable persons to descend in water, it will be necessary 
either to raise them to the surface after that interval in which the 
air confined in the bell becomes unfit for respiration, or means 

* There is always present, however, in every part of the atmosphere, 
a very small and variable proportion of carbonic acid. Animal respiration 
greatly increases the quantity of this deleterious gas in a confined portion 
of air, and also diminishes the quantity of oxygen gas, that constituent of 
atmospheric air on which its power of sustaining life depends. — Am. Ed. 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 329 

must be adopted to send down a supply of fresh air, and to allow 
the impure air to escape. 

9. But besides this, there is another reason why means of send- 
ing down a supply of air are necessary. It has already been 
proved, that the hydrostatic pressure causes the water to fill a 
large part of the capacity of the machine, the air contained in it 
feeing condensed. It is necessary, therefore, in order to maintain 
sufficient room for the diver free from water, to supply such a 
quantity oi air. as that in its condensed state it will keep the sur- 
face of the water near the mouth of the machine. Thus, at the 
depth of 3-4 feet, it will be necessary to supply as much air as 
would fill the bell in its natural state. At double that depth, as 
much more will be necessary, and so on. 

10. The air necessary for these purposes is supplied by one or 
more large condensing syringes. These syringes, or pumps, are 
placed above the surface of the water into which the bell is let 
down, and they communicate with the interior of the bell by a 
flexible tube carried through the water and under the mouth of 
the bell. Through this tube any quantity of fresh air, which may 
be requisite for either of the purposes already mentioned, may be 
supplied. A tube furnished with a stopcock is placed on the top 
of the bell, by which the diver can let any quantity of impure air 
escape, to make room for the fresh air which is admitted. The 
impure air will rise by its levity in bubbles to the surface. 

11. The diving bell received its name from the shape originally 
given to it. It was constructed with a round top, increasing in 
magnitude towards the mouth, thus resembling the shape of a 
bell. It is now, however, usually constructed square at the top 
and bottom, the bottom being a little larger than the top, and the 
sides slightly diverging from above. The material is sometimes 
cast iron, the whole machine being cast in one piece, .and made 
very thick, so that there is no danger either from leakage or frac- 
ture. In this case the weight of the machine itself is sufficient to 
sink it. Diving bells, however, are also sometimes constructed of 
close-grained wood, two planks being connected together with 
sheet-lead between them. 



330 COBB'S SPEAK BR. 

12. In the top of the machine are placed several strong 
lenses for the admission of light, such ai in used in the d. . 
vessels to illuminate the apartments below. The shape of the 
machine is generally oblong, with seats for the divei at the end ; 
Bhelvee for took, writing materials, <>r any other article 

to be carried down, aiv placed at the sides ; and below the seats 

there are boards placed across the machine to support the feet 
Messages are communicated from below to above either in writing 
or by signals. A board is carried in the bell on which a written 
message may be chalked. This hoard communicates by i cord 
with the arm of the superintendent above, who, on a signal given, 
draws it upland who, in ■ similar way, is able to return an answer. 

13. When the bell is of cast iron, a system of signals maybe made 
by v.tv simple means; a Wow struck by a hammer on th< 
produces a peculiar sound distinctly audible at the Burfitce of the 
water, and which can not be mistaken foi any other nose. The 
number of strokes mad.- on the bell indicates the nature of the 
message, the smaller number of strokes signifying those messages 
most frequently necessary. Thus, a single stroke calls for a supply 
of fresh air; two strokes command the bell to standstill; three 
express a desire to he drawn up; four to be lowered, and higher 
numbers express motion in different directions, Of course this 
system of signals is arbitrary, and liable to be varied in different 

14. The bell is usually Busp* nded from a crane, which is placed 
above the surface of the water; and in order to move it, this crane 
is placed on a rail-way, by which it is enabled to traverse a certain 
space in one direction. The carriage which traverses this rail-way 
supports another rail-way in directions at right angles to it, on 
which the crane is supported. By these means two motions may 
be given to the crane, the extent of which may be determined by 
the length of the rail-way, and the bell may be brought to any 
part of the bottom which is perpendicularly below the parallelogram 
formed by the length of the rail-way. 






COBB'S SPEAKER. 331 



LESSON CXXV. 

THE DEPARTED. PARK BENJAMIN. 

1. The departed! the departed ! 

They visit us in dreams, 
And they glide above our memories 

Like shadows over streams ; 
But where the cheerful lights of home 

In constant lustre burn, 
The departed, the departed, 

Can never more return ! 

2. The good, the brave, the beautiful, 

How dreamless is their sleep, 
Where rolls the dirge-like music 

Of the ever-tossing deep ! 
Or where the surging night-winds 

Pale winter's robes have spread 
Above the narrow palaces, 

In the cities of the dead ! 

3. I look around, and feel the awe 

Of one who walks alone, 
Among the wrecks of former days, 

In mournful ruin strown ; 
I start to hear the stirring sounds 

Among the cypress-trees, 
For the voice of the departed 

Is borne upon the breeze. 

4. That solemn voice ! it mingles with 

Each free and careless strain ; 
I scarce can think earth's minstrelsey 
Will cheer my heart again. 



332 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

The melody of summer ww\ 
TL»- thrilling notes of birds, 

Can oever be bo deer to me, 
As their remembere 1 words. 

5. I sometimes dream, their pleasant smiles 

9 I on me Bweetly tall, 
Their tones of love I faintly bear 

My name in sadness call. 
I know that they are happy! 

With their angel-plumage on, 
Bui my heart is very desolate, 

To think thai they are gone. 



LESSON CXXVI. 

BOOKS FOR THE FIRE. SOUTHEY. 

1. Young readers, you whose hearts are open, whose under- 
standings arc not yet hardened, and whose feelings are neither ex- 
hausted nor mcrusted by the world, take from me a better rule 
than any professors of criticism will teach you. Would you know 
whether the tendency of a book is good or evil, examine in what 
state of mind you lay it down. 

2. Has it induced you to suspect that what you have been ac- 
customed to think unlawful, may after all be innocent, and that 
that may be harmless which you have hitherto been taught to 
think dangerous ? Has it tended to make you dissatisfied and im- 
patient under the control of others, and disposed you to relax 
in that self-government without which both the laws of God and 
man tell us there can be no virtue, and consequently no happi- 
ness? 

3. Has it attempted to abate your admiration and reverence for 
what is grea,' and good, and to diminish in you the love of your 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 333 

country and your fellow-creatures ? Has it addressed itself to your 
pride, your vanity, your selfishness, or any other of your evil pro- 
pensities ? Has it defiled the imagination with what is loathsome, 
and shocked the heart with what is monstrous ? 

4. Has it disturbed the sense of right and wrong, which the 
Creator has implanted in the human soul ? If so, if you have 
felt that such were the effects that it was intended to produce, 
throw the book into the fire, whatever name it may bear on the 
title-page. Throw it into the fire, young man, though it should 
have been the gift of a friend ; young lady, away with the whole 
set, though it should be the prominent furniture of a rosewood 
book-case. 



LESSON CXXVIL 

THE VILLAGE BLACKSMITH. LONGFELLOW. 

1. Under a spreading chestnut-tree 

The village smithy stands ; 
The smith, a mighty man is he, 

With large and sinewy hands ; 
And the muscles of his brawny arms 

Are strong as iron bands. 

2. His hair is crisp, and black, and long ; 

His face is like the tan ; 
His brow is wet with honest sweat ; 

He earns whate'er he can ; 
And looks the whole world in the face, 

For he owes not any man. 

3. Week in, week out, from mom till night, 

You can hear his bellows blow ; 
You can hear him swing his heavy sledge, 

With measured beat and slow, 
Like a sexton ringing the village bell 

When the evening sun is low. 



334 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

4. And children, coming home from school, 

Look in at the open door ; 
They love to see the flaming forge, 

And hear the bellows roar, 
And catch the burning sparks that fly 

Like chaff from a thrashing-floor. 

5. He goes on Sunday to the ohurch, 

And sit-> BmODg his hoys ; 

He hears the parson pray and preach; 

He hears his daughter's voice 
Singing in the village choir, 
And it makes his heart rejoice. 

6. It sounds to him like her mother's voice, 

Singing in Paradise ! 
He needs must think of her once more, 

How in the grave she lies ; 
And with his hard, rough hand he wipes 

A tear out of his eyes. 

V. Toiling, rejoicing, sorrowing, 

Onward through life he goes ; 

Each morning sees some task begin, 
Each evening sees it close ; 

Something attempted, something done, 
Has earned a night's repose. 

8. Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend, 
For the lesson thou hast taught ! 

Thus at the flaming forge of life 
Our fortunes must be wrought ; 

Thus on its sounding anvil shaped 
Each burning deed and thought. 



cobb's speaker. 335 

LESSON CXXYIIL 

SCENES IN THE ALPS. FROM THE NOTE BOOK OF AN AMERICAN 

LADY TRAVELLING: IN EUROPE. 

1. We reached the dark defile of Clusen, and down its steep- 
ness we gazed until spell-bound by its grand desolation. The 
white wings of some mountain-bird, glanced athwart the gloom, 
and disappeared. Atalia pointed to the pinnacles of the Flegere 
rising so solemnly above us. A dark form was bending over 
them, and we recognised the hunter, La Moile. The sun illumed 
his form and revealed the rifle that never missed its mark. All 
was sombre and shadowy with us, but a halo of brightness encir- 
cled him. 

2. " Thus," thought I, " it is ever with the human race. Some 
surrounded with joyance, and others concealed in gloom." Sud- 
denly there was a light rustling heard in the heather, and a grace- 
ful child of the mountains stood despairingly a moment before us. 
Pure as the snow of the Flegere, was the white hair of this kid 
of the chamois goat. Sadly it gazed at us as we stood in its 
path. Above, the hunter's rifle ; before it, seeming foes. " Oh, 
spare it !" we shouted. " Spare it !" replied the sombre cliffs. 

3. We dared not move on that narrow verge. The startled kid 
looked appealingly at us, a tear glistened in its soft black eyes ; it 
trembled, like the graceful leaves of the acacia, hesitated then, in 
its hopeless agony, sprung over the cliff into that dark ravine, and 
as it fell, the hunter's ball whistled past us, parting a slender sap- 
ling on the spot where stood its intended victim. 

4. We halted to look upon the rich meadows below us ; on our 
left a belt of sombre pines cast their shadows upon the narrow 
path. Our attention was diverted by whispering voices. We 
perceived motion in the branches, and slowly they parted, as two 
young faces peered through the dark green boughs, and looked 
half seriously, half mirthfully at us. The older girl was apparently 
twelve years of age; the younger ten. Brown as gipsies, and as 
wild looking, were these young maidens. A short skirt of serge, 



336 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

attached to a black velvet bodice, was their only garment : their 
hah- hurtsr in raven braids to their feet 

5. As they Btood amidst the luxurianl foliage, they reminded us 
of wood-nymphs. Suddenly they commenced Binging, with voices 
of entrancing sweetness, The melody floated to the i 

the defiles, while echo murmured back the refrain. Passionate, 
thrilling, and ennobling were their ich as fined lb" 

of Tell, and Bent him forth to conquer or to die. 

6. As they ceased, for a moment they paused to catch the echo 
of their voices; with a look of arch wonder they stood, like ex- 
quisite statues of bronnti, with one linger raised playfully to bid us 
listen to the mountain response, thru with graceful timidity ap- 
proached, and holding out a basket made of green leaves and 
filled with apricots, courtesied a request to buy. Sera, 
often in other places, money broke the spell of the enchanter. 
This, then, wan a M gnt up scene," not an impromptu affair. We 
paid twice the ralue of the apricots, as was expected, and oourte- 
aying again, the nymphs, no, young merchant-, disappeared. 



LESSON CXXIX. 

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. MACACLAY. 

1. That wonderful book, while it obtains admiration from the 
most fastidious critics, is loved by those who are too simple to ad- 
mire it. Doctor Johnson, all whose studies were desultory, and 
who hated, as he said, to read books through, made an exception 
in favor of the " Pilgrim's Progress." That work, he said, was one 
of the two or three works which he wished longer. 

2. It was by no common merit that the illiterate sectary ex- 
tracted praise like this from the most pedantic of critics, and the 
most bigoted of Tories. In the wildest parts of Scotland, the " Pil- 
grim's Progress" is the delight of the peasantry. In every nursery, 
the " Pilgrim's Progress" is a greater favorite than " Jack the Giant- 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 337 

Killer." Every reader knows the straight and narrow path, as well 
as he knows the road in which he has gone backward and forward 
a hundred times. 

3. This is the highest miracle of genius ; that things that are 
not should be as though they were, that the imaginations of one 
mind should become the personal recollections of another. And 
this miracle the tinker has wrought. There is no ascent, no de- 
clivity, no resting-place, no turn-stile, with which we are not per- 
fectly acquainted. 

4. The wicket-gate, and the desolate swamp which separates it 
from the City of Destruction ; the long line of road, as straight as 
a rule can make it ; the Interpreter's house, and all its fair shows ; 
the prisoner in the iron cage ; the palace, at the doors of which 
armed men kept guard, and on the battlements of which walked 
persons clothed all in gold ; the cross and the sepulchre ; the 
steep hill and the pleasant arbor ; the stately front of the House 
Beautiful by the way-side ; the low green Valley of Humiliation, 
rich with grass and covered with flocks, all are as well known to 
us as the sights of our own street. 

5. Then we come to the narrow place where Apollyon strode 
right across the whole breadth of the way, to stop the journey of 
Christian, and where afterward the pillar was set up to testify how 
bravely he had fought the good fight. As we advance, the valley 
becomes deeper and deeper. The shade of the precipices on both 
sides falls blacker and blacker. 

6. The clouds gather overhead. Doleful voices, the clanking of 
chains, and the rushing of many feet to and fro, are heard through 
the darkness. The way, hardly discernible in gloom, runs close by 
the mouth of the burning pit, which sends forth its flames, its noi- 
some smoke, and its hideous shapes, to terrify the adventurer. 

1. Thence he goes on, amidst the snares and pitfalls, with the 
mangled bodies of those who have perished lying in the ditch by 
his side. At the end of the long, dark valley, he passes the dens 
in which the old giants dwelt, amidst the bones and ashes of those 
whom they had slain. Then the road passes straight on through 
a waste moor, till at length the towers of a distant city appear be- 

15 



338 CO BBS SPEAKER. 

fore the traveller; and soon he is in the midst of the innumerable 
multitudes of Vanity Fair. 

8. There are the jugglers and the apes, the Bhope and the pup- 
pet-shows. There are [taliau Row, and French Row, and Spanish 
Row, and Britain Row, with their crowds of buyers, sellers, and 
loungers, jabbering all the languages of the earth. Tnence 

on by the little hill of the silver mine, and through the meadow 
of lilies, along the bank of that pleasant river which is bordered 
on both Bides by fruit-in 

9. On the lefl side, branches off the path leading to thai hor- 
rible castle, the court-yard of which is paved with the skulls of 
pilgrims; and rigid onward are the sheep-folds and orchards of 
the Delectable Mountains. From the Delectable Mountain.-., t lie 
way lies through the fogs and briers of the Enchanted Ground, 
with here and there a bed of soft cushions spread under a 
arbor. And beyond is the land of Beulah, where the flowers, the 
grapes, and the songs of bird- and where the sun 
shines eight and day. 

10. JThence are plainly seen the golden pavements and streets 
of pearl, <>n the other Bide of that black and cold river over which 
there is no bridge. All the stages of the journey, all the forms 
which cross or overtake the pilgrims ; giants, and hobgoblins, ill- 
favored ones, and shining ones; the tall, comely, swarthy Madam 
Bubble, with ber great purse by her side, and her fingers playing 
with the money; the black man in the bright vesture; Mr. 
Worldly Wiseman, and my Lord Hategood ; Mr. Talkative, and 
Mrs. Timorous, are all actually existing beings to us. 

11. We follow the travellers through their allegorical progress 
with interest not inferior to that with which we follow Elizabeth 
from Siberia to Moscow, or Jeanie Deans from Edinburg to 
London. 

12. Bunyan is almost the only writer that ever gave to the 
abstract, the interest of the concrete. In the works of many cele- 
brated authors, men are mere personifications. We have not an 
Othello, but jealousy ; not an Iago, but perfidy ; not a Brutus, but 
patriotism. 






COBB'S SPEAKER. 339 

LESSON CXXX. 

SPECIFIC GRAVITIES. DR. LARDNER. 

1. In the preceding chapters, we have had frequent occasion to 
compare the weights of different bodies, bulk for bulk ; and not 
only in science, commerce, and the arts, but even in ordinary col- 
loquial intercourse, bodies are denominated heavier or lighter, 
according as the weights of the same bulk are greater or less. 
"We say familiarly that lead is heavier than copper, and that 
copper is heavier than cork ; yet it is certain that quantities of 
lead, copper, and cork may be taken which have equal weights. 
Thus, let us suppose a pound of lead, a pound of copper, and a 
pound of cork, to be ascertained and set apart ; it is clear that 
these have equal weights, and that any two of them, placed in the 
dishes of a balance, would maintain equilibrium. 

2. Yet still we do not cease to declare that cork is lighter than 
copper, and copper lighter than lead. To perceive with precision 
what is meant in this case, let us suppose parcels of any three dis- 
tinct substances placed before us, such as quicksilver, water, and 
alcohol, and let it be proposed to ascertain which of these liquids 
is the heaviest : we shall take any measure of the quicksilver, and, 
having weighed it, afterward weigh the same measure of the water 
and of the alcohol successively. 

3. Having found that the measure of quicksilver is heavier than 
that of water, and water than that of alcohol, we shall immediately 
conclude that quicksilver is a heavier liquid than water, and that 
water is a heavier liquid than alcohol. We shall form this con- 
clusion, even though the whole quantity of alcohol under examina- 
tion shall weigh more than the quantities of the water or quick- 
silver. It appears, therefore, that when the weights of substances 
are spoken of relatively to one another, without any reference to 
particular quantities or masses of them, the weights meant to be 
compared are those of equal bulk. 

4. A substance is sometimes said to be heavy or light, appa- 
rently without reference to any other substance. Thus air is said 



340 COBB'S SPEAK KB. 

to be a very light substance, and gold a very heavy one ; but, in 
such cases, a comparison is tacitly instituted between the freights, 
bulk for bulk, of these substances and those of the bodies which 
most commonly fall under our observation. When we say that 
air is light, we mean thai a certain bulk of air is much lighter than 

the same bulk of most of the substances which we com oly meet 

with ; and when we Bay that gold is heavy, we mean that any 
portion of that metal is heavier than a portion of the Bame dimen- 
sions of the most ordinary Bubstances thai we meet with, 

5. This familiar use of a positive epithei to express a com- 
parison between any quality bs it exists in an individual instance 
and a similar quality as it exists in the average of ordinary exam- 
ples, is very frequent, and not confined to the casejusl alluded to. 
We Bpeakofa very tall man and a very high mountain, meaning 
that tin- man or mountain in question have much greater height 
than men or mountains commonly have, A man of twenty years 
of age is Baid to be a very young man, while a horse of twenty 
years of age is declared to be a very old horse, because the ai 

age of man is much above twenty, and the average age of hoc* i 
below it. 

6. From what has been now explained, it appears thai the term 
weight is applied in two distinct, and sometimes opposite » 

A mass of cork may have any assignable weight, as 100 tuns. 
This weight is truly said to 1"- considerable, and the mass is 
correctly Baid to be heavy; but the cork which composes die mass 
is Baid, with equal truth and propriety, to be a light substance. 

V. These two ways of considering the weight of a body maj be 
denominated absolute and relative. The absolute weight of a 
body is that of its whole mass, without any reference to its bulk ; 
the relative weight is the weight of a given magnitude of the sub- 
stance compared with the weight of the same magnitude of other 
substances. The term weight, however, is commonly used to ex- 
press absolute weight, while the relative weight of a body is called 
its .^ecijic gravity. 

8. The origin of this term is obvious. Bodies which differ in 
other qualities are found also to differ in the weights of equal 



COBB'S SPEAKEK. 341 

volumes. Thus a cubic inch of atmospheric air has a weight 
different from a cubic inch of oxygen, hydrogen, or any of the 
other gases. The number of grains in a cubic inch of gold is 
different from the number of grains in the cubic inch of platinum, 
silver, or any of the other metals. 

9. A cubic inch of water contains a number of grains different 
from a cubic inch of sulphuric acid, alcohol, or other liquids. 
Hence, it appears that the weight of a given bulk of any substance, 
being different from the weight of the same bulk of other sub- 
stances, may be regarded as an index or test of its species, and by 
the weights of equal bulks bodies may be separated and arranged 
in species. Hence, the term specific weight, or specific gravity. 

10. When bodies are to be compared, in respect of any common 
quality, a standard of comparison becomes necessary, in order to 
prevent an express reference to two bodies in every particular case. 
Thus, if we would express the height of any body without some 
standard measure, we could only do so by declaring it to be so 
many times as high, or bearing such a proportion to the height of 
some other body. But a foot, or a yard, being known lengths, it 
is only necessary to state that the height of the body is so many 
feet, or so many yards. 

11. In like manner, if we would express the specific gravity of 
lead, we should state that it had such a proportion to the weight 
of some other body, the weight of a certain bulk of which is 
known. But if one substance be selected, to which, as to a stan- 
dard, all others shall be referred, then the specific gravity of any 
substance may be expressed simply by a number which has the 
same proportion to one or the unit as the weight of any bulk of 
the substance in question has to the weight of an equal bulk of the 
standard substance. 

12. The body selected as the standard or unit of specific gravity 
should be one easily obtained, and subject as little as possible to 
variation by change of circumstances or situation. For this pur- 
pose water possesses many advantages ; but, in deciding the state 
in which it is to be considered as the standard, several circumstan- 
ces must be attended to. 



342 COBB'S SPEAK EB. 

13. First ; the water must be pure, because the admixture of 
other substances, will affect the weight of a given volume of it; 
and -in--'', at different times, and in differenl places, irate/ may have 
different substances mixed with it, the standard would vary, and 
therefore, the specific gravities of substances ascertained with refer- 
ence to it at different tunes and places would not admit of com- 
parison. 

14. Thus, if the proportion of the weight, bulk for bulk, of gold 
t<> the weight of the water of the Seine wen- ascertained at Paris, 
and the weight of another specimen of that metal relatively to the 
water of the Thames were ascertained at London, the specific 

gravities of tint two portions of metal could not he inferred Unless 
it were previously known that the water of the Thames and the 
water of the Seine were composed of the same ingredients, or if 
not, unless their relative weights, bulk for bulk, were previously de- 
termined. That the standard, therefore, may be invariable, it is 
necessary that all substances which may be combine*] with the 
water shall be extricated- 

15. Such heterogeneous matter as may be suspended in the liquid 
in a solid state may be disengaged from it by filtration ; that is, 
by ]»a>sing the liquid through a solid substance whose pores are 
smaller than the solid impurities to be extricated. If any sub- 
stances be held in solution by the water, or be chemically com- 
bined with it, they may be disengaged by distillation ; that is, by 
raising the temperature of the liquid to a point at which the water 
will pass off in vapor, leaving the other substances behind ; or, if 
those other substances vaporize at a lower heat, they will pass off, 
leaving the water behind : in either case, the water will be separa- 
ted from the other bodies with which it is combined. It is evi- 
dent that this latter process of distillation also serves the purposes 
of the former one for filtration. 

16. Secondly ; the water being thus obtained in its pure state, 
and free from admixture with any other substance, it is to be con- 
sidered whether there be any other cause which can make the 
same bulk of the liquid w r eigh differently at different times and 
places. We have already more than once alluded to the way by 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 343 

which bodies are affected in changes of temperature. Every in- 
crease of temperature, in general, produces an increase of bulk, 
and, therefore, causes a given volume, as a cubic inch, to weigh 
less. 

17. Hence, in comparing the weights, bulk for bulk, of any 
substances, at different times or places, with the weight of pure 
water, the results of the investigation would not admit of compar- 
ison, unless the different states of the water with respect to tem- 
perature were distinctly known. In addition, therefore, to the 
purity of the water taken as a standard, it is expedient that some 
fixed temperature be adopted. 

18. It has been already explained that water, as it decreases in 
temperature, also contracts its dimensions until it attains the tem- 
perature of about 40° ; it then again begins to expand : at this 
temperature of 40° it is, therefore, in its least dimensions, and 
it is known that when the water is pure, its state at this tem- 
perature is independent of time, place, or other circumstances ; it 
is the same at all parts of the earth, and under whatever circum- 
stances it may be submitted to experiment. 

19. The temperature at which pure water has its dimensions 
most contracted is called the state of greatest condensation, be- 
cause then the mass of the liquid is reduced to the smallest possi- 
ble dimensions, and its particles have the greatest possible prox- 
imity. The weight of a given bulk of distilled water in the state 
of greatest condensation is, therefore, the standard of specific 
gravity. 

20. As it may not always be convenient to obtain water at this 
temperature, _when experiments on specific gravity are to be made, 
numerical tables have been constructed expressing the change of 
weight which a given bulk of water sustains with every change of 
temperature ; so that when the specific gravity of any substance 
has been found with reference to water at any proposed tempera- 
ture, it may be reduced by a simple process of arithmetic to that 
which would have resulted, had it been compared, in the first in- 
stance, with water at the temperature corresponding to the state 
of greatest condensation. 



344 COBB'S SPEAKER 

LESSON CXXXI. 

\700DMAN, SPARE THAT TREE! THE NEW MIRROR. 

1. Woodman, Bpare thai tree ! 

Touch do1 a ringle bough ! 
In youth it sheltered ine, 

And I 'II protect it now. 
Twaa my forefather's hand 

That placed it near his cot ; 
There, woodman, lei it Btand, 

Thy aze ahall harm it not! 

2. That old familiar tree, 

Whose glory and renown 
Are spread o'er land and sea, 

And wouldst thou hew it down ? 
Woodman, forbear thy stroke! 

Cut ii"t it- earth-bound ties ; 
Oh, spare that aged oak, 

Now tow din-- to the skies ! 

3. When but an idle boy 

I Bought its grateful shade ; 
In all their gushing joy 

Here too my sisters played. 
My mother kissed me here; 

My father pressed my hand; 
Forgive this foolish tear, 

But let that old oak stand ! 

4. My heart-strings round thee cling, 

Close as thy bark, old friend ! 
Here shall the wild-bird sing, 
And still thy branches bend. 



COBB'S SPEAKEE. 345 

Old tree ! The storm still brave ! 

And, woodman, leave the spot ; 
While I 've a hand to save, 

Thy axe shall harm it not ! 



LESSON CXXXIL 

HOT SPRINGS OF ICELAND. HENDERSON. 

1. At about four in the afternoon, we arrived at the Hot Springs, 
called the Geysers. At the distance of several miles, on turning 
around the foot of a high mountain on our left, we could descry 
from the clouds of vapor, that were rising and convolving in the 
atmosphere, the spot where one of the most magnificent and un- 
paralleled scenes in nature is displayed ; where, bursting the parted 
ground, Great Geyser, 

" hot, through scorching cliffs, is seen to rise, 

"With exhalations steaming to the skies !" 

2. Electrified, as it were, by the sight, and feeling impatient to 
have our curiosity fully gratified, Mr. Hodgson and I rode on be- 
fore the cavalcade ; and, just as we got clear of the southeast 
corner of the low hill, at the side of which the springs are situated, 
we were saluted by an eruption which lasted several minutes, and 
during which the water appeared to be carried to a great height 
in the air. Riding on, between the springs and the hill, we fell in 
with a small green spot, where we left our horses, and proceeded, 
as if by an irresistible impulse, to the gently-sloping ground, from 
the surface of which numerous columns of steam were making 
their escape. 

3. Though surrounded by a great multiplicity of boiling springs 
and steaming apertures, the magnitude and grandeur of which 
far exceeded any thing we had ever seen before, we felt at no loss 

15* 



846 CO Ji US SPEAK 

in determining on which of them to feast our wood 
bestow tli'- primary moment! of astonished contemplation. 
the northern extremity of the trad rose a large circular mound, 
formed by the d of the fountain, justly distinguished by 

th<- appellation of the Great Geyser, from th<- middle of which a 

degree of evaporation was risible. 
4. Ascending the rampart, we had the spacious basin at our 

aore than half filled with the most beautiful hot crystalline 

. which was but just moved by a gentle ebullition, i 

by the escaj t' steam from a cj lindrical pipe or funnel in the i 

pipe I ascertained by admeasurement to I"- seventy- 
eight : pendicular depth : it- diameter is, in general, from 

:i feet ; but, near the mouth it gradually widens, and 
opens almost imperceptibly into the basin, the inside of which ex- 
hibits a whitish insisting of a nlicioua incrustation, which 
bai ba ii rendered almost perfectly smooth by the action 
of tin- boiling w 

i;. The diameter of the basin i> fifty-six feet in one direction, 
and foKy-eii in another; and, when full, it measurea about four 

n depth, from the surface of the water t" the <•"nnii.-nc.ni.Mit, 
of the pipe. The borders <>!' the basin which form the highest 

if iln- mound, are rery irregular, owing to tin- rarious eccre- 
tioni of ili>- deposited substances; and at two p small 

channels, equally polished with the interior <>t" tin- basin, tin 
which the water makes ha escape, when it bai been till«-.| to the 

in. 

7. 'Ili- declivity of the mound i- rapid, at first, especially on the 
northwest -i.!.-, hut instant!) begins to dope more gradually ; and 
the d are spread all around to different distances, the 

of which is near a hundred feet The whole of this surface, 
tli.- two small chambers excepted, displays a beautiful silicious 
efflorescence, rising in small granular clusters, which bear the 
striking resemblance to the heads of cauliflowers, and, while 
are of so extremely delicate a contexture, that it is hardly possible 
to remove them in a perfect Btate. 

8. They are of a brownish color, but in some places app roa ch - 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 347 

ing to a yellow. On leaving the mound, the hot water passes 
through a kind of turfy soil ; and, by acting on the peat, mosses, 
and grass, converts them entirely into stone, and furnishes the 
curious traveller with some of the finest specimens of petrifaction. 

9. Having stood some time in silent admiration of the masr- 
nificent spectacle which this matchless fountain, even in a state of 
inactivity, presents to the view, as there were no indications of an 
immediate eruption, we returned to the spot where we had left our 
horses ; and, as it formed a small eminence at the base of the hill, 
and commanded a view of the whole tract, we fixed on it as the 
site of our tents. About thirty-eight minutes past five, we were 
apprized, by low reports, and a slight concussion of the ground, 
that an eruption was about to take place ; but only a few small 
jets were thrown up, and the water in the basin did not rise above 
the surface of the outlets. 

10. Not being willing to miss the very first symptoms of the 
phenomenon, wo kept walking about in the vicinity of the spring, 
now survevino- some of the other cavities, and now collecting ele- 
gant specimens of petrified wood, leaves, &c, on the rising ground 
between the Geyser and the base of the hill. At fifteen minutes 

ight, we counted five or six reports, that shook the mound 
on which we stood, but no remarkable jet followed ; the water 
only boiled with great violence, and, by its heavings, caused a 
number of small waves to flow towards the margin of the basin, 
which, at the same time, received an addition to its contents. 



LESSON CXXXIII. 

HOT SPRINGS OF ICELAND. CONTINUED. 

1. Twenty-five minutes past nine, as I returned from the 
neighboring hill, I heard reports, which were both louder and 
more numerous than any of the preceding, ami exactly resembled 
the distant discharge of a park of artillery. Concluding, from 



348 COBB'S Sl'KAKKK. 

these circumstances, thai the long-expected wonders were about bo 
commence, I ran to the mound, which Bhook violently under my 
feet; and I had Bcarcely time to look into the basin, whan the 
fountain exploded, and instantly compelled me to retire to ■ re- 
Bpectable distance od the windward side. 

2. The water rushed up ou1 of the pipe with amazing velocity, 
and was projected by irregular jets into the atmosphere, Burrounded 
by immense volumes of steam, which, in a greal measure, hid the 
column from the view. The first four or fivej ta were inconsider- 
able, not exceeding fifteen or twenty feel in height : these were 
followed by one about fifty feet, which was succeeded by two <-r 
three considerably lower; after which came the last, exceeding all 
the resl in splendor, which rose, at least, to the height of seventy feet 

3. The large stones, which we had previously thrown into the 
pipe, were ejaculated to a great height, especially one, which was 
thrown much higher than the water. On the propulsion of the 
jets, they Lifted up the water in the basin, nearest the orifice of the 
pipe to the height of a foot, or a foot and a half; and, on the 
falling of the c ilumn, it aot only caused the basin to overflow at 
the usual channels, but forced the water over the highest part of 
the brim, behind which I was standing. 

4. The great body of the column, at least ten feet in diameter, 
rose perpendicularly, but was divided into a number of the most 
superb curvated ramifications; and several smaller sproutings were 
severed from it, and projected in oblique directions, to the no small 
danger of the spectator, who is apt to get scalded, ere he is aware, 
by the falling jet. 

5. On the cessation of the eruption, the water instantly sunk 
into the pipe, but rose again immediately, to about half a foot 
above the orifice, where it remained stationary. All being again 
in a state of tranquillity, and the clouds of steam having left the 
basin, I entered it, and proceeded within reach of the water, which 
I found to be 183° of Fahrenheit, a temperature of more than 
twenty degrees less than at any period while the basin was filling, 
and occasioned, I suppose, by the cooling of the water during its 
projection into the air. 



COBB'S SPEAKEB. 349 

6. The whole scene was indescribably astonishing; but, what 
interested us most, was the circumstance, that the strongest jet 
came last, as if the Geyser had summoned all her powers, in order 
to show us the greatness of her energy, and make a grand finish 
before retiring into the subterraneous chambers, in which she is 
concealed from mortal view. Our curiosity had been gratified, 
but it was far from being satisfied. We now wished to have it in 
our power to inspect the mechanism of this mighty engine, and 
obtain a view of the springs by which it is put in motion : but the 
wish was vain, for they lie in " a tract which, no fowl knoweth, 
and which the vulture's eye hath not seen ;" which man, with all 
his boasted power, can not, and dare not, approach. 

V. On the morning of the 29th, I was awakened by Captain 
Von Sckeel, at twenty-three minutes past five o'clock, to contem- 
plate an eruption of the spring, which Sir John Stanley denomi- 
nates the New Geyser, situated at the distance of a hundred and 
forty yards to the south of the principal fountain. It is scarcely 
possible, however, to give any idea of the brilliancy and grandeur 
of the scene which caught my eye, on drawing aside the curtain 
of my tent. 

8. From an orifice, nine feet in diameter, which lay directly 
before me, 'at the distance of about a hundred yards, a column 
of water, accompanied with prodigious volumes of steam, was 
erupted, with inconceivable force and a tremendously roaring 
noise, to varied heights, of from fifty to eighty feet, and threatened 
to darken the horizon, though brightly illumined by the morning 
sun. 

9. During the first quarter of an hour, I found it impossible to 
move from my knees, on which I had raised myself, but poured 
out my soul in solemn adoration of the Almighty Author of 
Nature, to whose control all her secret movements and terrifying 
operations are subject ; " who looketh on the earth, and it trem- 
bleth ; who toucheth the hills, and they smoke." 

10. At length, I repaired to the fountain, where we all met, and 
communicated to each other our mutual and enraptured feelings 
of wonder and admiration. The jets of water now subsided ; but, 



350 COBB'S SPEAKER 

their place was occupied by the spray and steam, which, having 
oom to play, rushed, with a deafening roar, to a height little 
inferior to that of the water. 

11. On throwing the largest stones we could find into tin- pipe, 
they were instantly propelled to an amazing height ; and ioum of 
them, that were cast op more perpendicularly than the oth< 
mained, for the Bpace of four or five minutes, within the influence 
of the iteam, being successively ejected, and falling again in a rery 
amusing manner. A gentle oortherD breeze carried part of the 
spray at tin- t<»p .if th.- pillar t.> the one side, when it fell lik-- a 
drizzling rain, and was -<> cold that we could stand below it, and 
rea i\<- it on our hands or face without the least inconvenience. 

L2. While 1 kept my Btation on tin- same Bide with the ran, a 
moel brilliant circular bow, of a large size, appeared on the oppo- 
site side of the fountain ; and, on changing Bides, having the 
fountain between me and the sun, I discovered another, if possi- 
ble, still more beautiful, hut so small a- only to encircle my head. 
Their hues entirely resembled those of the common rainbow. 

13. After continuing to roar about half an hour longer, the 
column of spray visibly diminished, and >unk gradually, till twenty- 
six minutes past -i\, when it fell to tip- same Btate in which we 
had observed it the preceding day, the water boiling at the depth 
of about twenty feet below the orifice of the shaft. 



LESSON CXXXIV. 

INVASION OF SWITZERLAND BY THE FRENCH. SYDNEY SMITH. 

1. The vengeance which the French took upon the Swiss, for 
their determined opposition to the invasion of their country, wa>> 
decisive and terrible. The history of Europe can afford no parallel 
to such cruelty. To the dark ages, and the most barbarous nations 
of the east, we must turn for similar scenes of horror, and, perhaps, 
must turn in vain. The soldiers, dispersed over the country, car- 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 351 

ried fire, and sword, and robbery, into the most tranquil and hid- 
den valleys of Switzerland. 

2. From the depth of sweet retreats, echoed the shrieks of mur- 
dered men, stabbed in their humble dwellings, under the shadow 
of the high mountains, in the midst of those scenes of nature which 
make solemn and pure the secret thoughts of man, and appall him 
with the majesty of God. The flying peasants saw, in the midst 
of the night, their cottages, their implements of husbandry, and 
the hopes of the future year, expiring in one cruel conflagration. 
The men were shot upon the slightest provocation ; innumerable 
women, after being exposed to the most atrocious indignities, were 
murdered, and their bodies thrown into the woods. 

3. In some instances, this conduct was resented; and, for symp- 
toms of such an honorable spirit, the beautiful town of Altdorf 
was burnt to the ground, and not a single house left to show 
w 7 here it had stood. The town of Stanz, a town peculiarly dear 
to the Swiss, as it gave birth to one of the founders of their liberty, 
was reduced to a heap of cinders. In this town, in the fourteenth 
century, a Swiss general surprised and took prisoner the Austrian 
commander, who had murdered his father ; yet he forgave and re- 
leased him, upon the simple condition that he would not again 
serve against the Swiss Cantons. 

4.- When the French got possession of this place, they burnt it 
to ashes, not in a barbarous age, but now, yesterday, in an age we 
call philosophical ; they burnt it, because the inhabitants had en- 
deavored to preserve their liberty. The Swiss was a simple peas- 
ant ; the French, a mighty people, combined for the regeneration 
of Europe. Oh, Europe, what dost thou owe to this mighty 
people ? Dead bodies, ruinous heaps, broken hearts, waste places, 
childless mothers, widows, orphans, tears, endless confusion, and 
unutterable wo. 

5. For this mighty nation, we have suffered seven years of un- 
exampled wretchedness, a long period of discord, jealousy, priva- 
tion, and horror, which every reflecting man would almost wish 
blotted out of his existence. By this mighty people, the Swiss 
have lost their country ; that country which they loved so well, that 



352 COBB'S SPEAKEK. 

if they heard but the simple song of their childhood, tens fell down 
every manly face, and the most intrepid soldiers Bobbed with 
grie£ 

G. What then? Is .-til this done with impunity 1 Are the 
thunders of God dumb) Are there do lightnings in hi> right 
hand? Pause a tittle, before you decide on the ways of Provi- 
dence; tarry, and see what will come to pass. There is a solemn 
and awful courage in the human heart, placed there by (Sod him- 
self, to guard man against the tyranny of his fellows, and while 
this lives, the world is safe. 

7. There slumbers even now. perchance, upon the mountains of 
Switzerland, Borne youthful peasant, unconscious of the soul he 
bears, that shall lead down these bold people from their rocks, to 
sucb deeds of courage as they have heard with their ears, and their 
fathers have declared unto them ; to such as were done in their days, 
and in the old times before them, by those magnanimous rustics, 
who first taught foolish ambition to respect the wisdom and the 
spirit of simple men, righteously and honestly striving for every 
human blessing. 

8. Let me go on a little farther in this dreadful enumeration. 
More than thirty villages were Backed in the canton of Berne 
alone ; not only was all the produce of the present year destroyed, 
but all tin- cattle unfit tor human food were slaughtered, and the 
agricultural implements burnt; and thus the certainty of famine 
was entailed upon them for the ensuing year. At the end of all 
this military execution, civil exactions, still more cruel and oppres- 
sive, were begun ; and, under the forms of government and law, 
the most unprincipled men gave loose to their avarice and rapa- 
city, till Switzerland has sunk at last under the complication of 
her misfortunes, reduced to the lowest ebb of misery and despair. 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 353 

LESSON CXXXV. 

A TURKISH BATH. FROM A MONTH AT CONSTANTINOPLE. 

ALBERT SMITH, 

1. The second day I was at Constantinople I had a bath, in the 
proper Turkish fashion ; and this was quite as novel in its way as 
every thing else had been. The establishment patronised was the 
head one in Staniboul ; and we went from the street into a very 
large hall, entirely of marble, with a gallery around the walls, in 
which were couches, as well as down below. On these, different 
visiters were reposing ; some ' covered up and lying quite still, 
others smoking narghiles, and drinking coffee. Towels and cloths 
were drying on lines, and in the corner was a little shed, serving 
as a Cafe. 

2. We went up stairs and undressed, giving our watches and 
money to the attendant, who tied our clothes up in a bundle. He 
then tucked a colored wrapper round our waists, and threw a 
towel over our shoulders, after which we walked down stairs, and 
put on some wooden clogs at the door of the next apartment. 
The first thing these did was to send me heels over head, to the 
great discomfiture of my temporary costume, and equal delight of 
the bathers there assembled. 

3. We remained in this room, which was of an increased tem- 
perature, idling upon other couches, until we were pronounced 
ready to go into the second chamber. I contrived, with great 
care and anxiety, to totter into it upon my clogs, and found another 
apartment of marble, very warm indeed, and lighted from the top 
by a dome of glass " bull's-eyes." In the middle of this chamber 
was a hot, raised octagon platform, also of marble, and in the re- 
cesses of the sides, were marble vases, and tanks, with taps for hot 
and cold water, and channels in the floor to carry off the suds. 

4. Two savage, unearthly boys, their heads all shaved, with the 
exception of a tuft on the top, and in their scant costume of a towel 
only, looking more like wild Indians than Turks, now seized hold 
of me, and, forcing me back upon the hot marble floor, commenced 



354 OOBB'8 si-KA K B& 

b dreadful series of tortures, such as I had only read of ae pertain- 
ing to the dark ages, Ii was of no use to resist They clutched 
hold of the back of my neck, and 1 thought they were going to 
strangle me : then they pulled at my arms and legs, and I thought 
again they were going to put me on the rack ; and lastly, when they 
began to roll backward and forward ou my chest, doubling 
cracking elbows underneath them, 1 thought, finally, that my last 
minute was come, and thai death by Buffocation would finish me. 

5. Tiny- wen fiends, and evidently delighted in my agony; not 
allowing me to look to the right or left after my companions, and 
throwing themselves on me again, whenever they conceived I was 
to call the dragoman to mj assistance. I do not know that 
1 ever ch a frightful five minut d with bathing, 

nervous as are some of the feelings which that pastii 

C. It is very terrible to take the first summer plunge into a deep, 
dark river, and when you are at the bottom, and the water is 
roaring in your ears, to think of dead bodies and crocodiles; it is 
almost worse to make thai frightful journey down a >u-r\> beach, 
in a bathing machine, with a vague incertitude a> to when 
will find yourself when the doors open again; but nothing 
come up to what I Buffered in my last extremity, in the Constan- 
tinople bath. 

7. Thoughts of Turkish cruelty and the sacks of Boephorus; of 
home, and friends, and my childhood's bowers ; of the Badness of 
being murdered in a foreign bath; and tin- probability of my 
Giaour body being eaten by the wild dogs, crowded rapidly on me, 
as these demons increased their tortures ; until, collecting all my 
strength for one last effort, I contrived to throw them off, one to 
the right and the other to the left, some half dozen feet, and regain- 
ed my legs. 

8. The worst was now over, certainly ; but the persecution still 
continued sufficiently exciting. They seized on me again, and led 
me to the tanks, where they almost flayed me with horsehair 
gloves, and drowned me with bowls of warm water, poured con- 
tinuously on my head. I could not see, and, if again I tried to 
cry out, they thrust a large soapy swab, made of the fibres that 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 355 

grow at the foot of the date palm, into my mouth, accompanying- 
each renewed act of cruelty with a demand for baksheesh. At 
last, being fairly exhausted, themselves, they swathed me in a great 
many towels ; and I was then half carried, half pushed, up stairs 
again, where I took my place upon my couch with feelings of 
great joy and thankfulness. 

9. I now began to think that all the horrors I had undergone 
were balanced by the delicious feeling of repose that stole over 
me. I felt that I could have stopped there for ever, with the fra- 
grant coffee steaming at my side, and the soothing bubble of the 
narghiles sounding in every direction. I went off into a day-dream ; 
my last clear vision being that of a man having his head shaved 
all but a top-knot, which was long enough to twist around and 
around, under his fez ; and could scarcely believe that an hour 
had elapsed, when the dragoman suggested our return to the 
bustling world without. 



LESSON CXXXVI. 

SUMMER EVENING. BRYANT. 



1. The summer day has closed ; the sun is set : 

Well have they done their office, those bright hours, 
The latest of whose train goes softly out 
In the red west. The green blade of the ground 
Has risen, and herds have cropped it ; the young twig 
Has spread its plaited tissues to the sun ; 
Flowers of the garden and the waste have blown, 
And withered ; seeds .have fallen upon the soil 
From bursting cells, and, in their graves, await 
Their resurrection. 

2. Insects from the pools 
Have filled the air awhile with humming wings, 
That now are still for ever ; painted moths 
Have wandered the blue sky, and died again ; 



356 COBB'S STEAK KB. 

The mother-bird hath broken for her brood 
Their prison-shells, or Bhoved them from their in 
Plumed for their earliest flight 

3. In brighl ak> 
In woodland cottages with earthy wall-, 
In Doisome cells of the tumultuous tuwn, 
Mothers have clasped with joy the new-born hah.-. 
Graves by the lonely forest, by the Bhore 

Of rivers and of ocean, by the ways 

Of th<* thronged city, have been hollowed out, 

Aihl filled, and (dosed. 

4. This day hath parted friends, 
That ne'er before were parted; it hath knit 
New friendships; it hath Been the maiden plight 
Her faith, and trust her peace to him who long 
Hath wooed ; and it hath heard, from lips which late 
Were eloquent of love, the first harsh word, 

That told the wedded one her peace was flown. 

5. Farewell to the sweet sunshine! one glad day 
Is added now to childhood's merry days, 

And one calm day to those of quiet S£ 

Still the fleet hours run on ; and, as I lean 
Amid the thickening darkness, lamps are lit 

By those who watch the dead, and those who twine 
Flowers for the bride. The mother from the eyes 
Of her sick infant shades the painful light, 
And sadly listens to his quick-drawn breath. 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 357 

LESSON CXXXVIL 

AUTUMN. N. E. MAGAZINE. 

1. Upon a leaf-strown walk, 

I wandered on amid the sparkling dews ; 
Where Autumn hangs, upon each frost-gemmed stalk 
Her gold and purple hues ; 

2. Where the tall fox-gloves shake 

Their loose bells to the wind, and each sweet flower 
Bows down its perfumed blossoms, to partake 
The influence of the hour ; 

3. Where the cloud shadows pass 

With noiseless speed by lonely lake and rill. 
Chasing each other o'er the low crisped grass 
And up the distant hill ; 

4. Where the clear stream steals on 
Upon its silent path, as it were sad 

To find each downward-gazing flower has gone, 
That made it once so glad. 

5 I number it in days, 

Since last I roamed through this secluded dell, 
Seeking a shelter from the summer rays, 
Where flowers and wild-birds dwell. 

6. While, gemmed with pearl-drops bright, 
Green leaves and silken buds were dancing there, 
I moved my lips in murmurs of delight, 

"And blessed them, unaware." 

7. How changed each sylvan scene ! 

Where is the warbling bird ? the sun's clear ray ? 
The waving brier-rose ? and foliage green, 
That canopied my way ? 



358 COBB'S SPEAK Ell. 

8. Where is the balmy breeze 

That fanned so late my brow ? the Bweel southwest, 
That, whispering manic bo the listening trees, 
My raptured spirit blessed ? 

9. Where are the notes of Spring ? 

Xrt the brown bee stills hums his <juiet tune, 
And the low shiver of the insect's wing 
Disturbs the bush of noon. 

10. The thin, transparent Lei 

Like flakes of amber, quiver in the light; 
While Autumn round \i<-r silver fret-work weaves 
In glittering hoar-frost white. 

11. Autumn, then art blessed I 

My bosom heaves with breathless rapture here: 
I love thee well, season of mournful rest, 
Sweet Sabbath of the year ! 



LESSON CXXXVI1T. 

IN WRITTEN MUSIC. H« P. WILLIS. 

1. There is a melancholy music in autumn. The leaves float 
sadly about with a look of peculiar desolateness, waving capri- 
ciously iu the wind, and falling with a just audible sound, that is 
a very sigh for its sadness. And then, when the breeze is fresher, 
though the early autumn months are mostly still, they are swept 
on with a cheerless whistle over the naked harvest fields, and about 
in the eddies of the blast ; and though I have, sometimes, in the 
glow of exercise, felt my life more secure in the triumph of the 
brave contest ; yet, in the chill of evening, or when any sickness! 
of mind or body was on me, the moaning of those withered leaves! 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 359 

has pressed down my heart like a sorrow, and the cheerful fire 
and the voices of rny many sisters might scarce remove it. 

2. Then for the music of winter. I love to listen to the falling 
of the snow. It is an obtrusive and sweet music. You may tem- 
per your heart to the most serene mood by its low murmur. It is 
that kind of music that only intrudes upon your ear when your 
thoughts come languidly. You need not hear it, if your mind is 
not idle. It realizes my dream of another world, where music is 
intuitive like a thought, and comes only when it is remembered. 

3. And the frost, too, has a melodious " ministry." You will 
hear its crystals shoot in the dead of a clear night as if the moon- 
beams were splintering like arrows on the ground ; and you would 
listen to it the more earnestly, that it is the going on of one of the 
most cunning and beautiful of nature's deep mysteries. 

4. I know nothing so wonderful as the shooting of a crystal. 
God has hidden its principle as yet from the inquisitive eye of the 
philosopher, and we must be content to gaze on its exquisite beauty, 
and listen in mute wonder to the noise of its invisible workmanship. 
It is too fine a knowledge for us. We shall comprehend it, when 
we know how the " morning stars sang together." 

5. You would hardly look for music in the dreariness of early 
winter. But before the keener frosts set in, and while the warm 
winds are yet stealing back occasionally like regrets of the de- 
parted summer, there will come a soft rain or a heavy mist, and 
when the north wind returns, there will be drops suspended like 
ear-ring jewels between the filaments of the cedar tassels and 
in the feathery edges of the dark green hemlocks ; and, if the 
clearing up is not followed by the heavy wind, they will all be 
frozen in their places like well set gems. 

6. The next morning the warm sun comes out, and by the mid- 
dle of the warm, dazzling forenoon, they are all loosened from the 
close touch which sustained them, and they will drop at the slight- 
est motion. If you go along upon the south side of the wood at 
that hour, you will hear music. 

7. The dry foliage of the summer's shedding is scattered over 
the ground, and the round, hard drops sing out clearly and dis- 



360 OOBB'S SPE-A K KB. 

tinctly, as ili. \ are shaken down \sitli the Btirringof tin- breeze. 
h is something like the running of deep and rapid water, only 
more fitful and merrier ; but to one who goes out a nature with 
his heart open, it u a pleasant music, and, in contrast with the 
stem character of the season, delightful 

8. Winter has many other Bounds thai give pleasure to tin; 
Beekei for hidden Bweetness; but they are too ran- and accidental 
to 1"- described distinctly. The brooks have a sullen and muffled 
murmur under their frozen surface; the ice in the distant river 
heaves upwith the swell of the current, and falls again to the bank 
with a prolonged echo; and the woodsman's i cheerfully 

.mi from the bosom of the unrobed forest 

:». These are, at beat, however, but melancholy Bounds, and like 
all that inert- the eye in that cheerless season, they but drive in 
til** heart iijm.h itsel£ I believe it is bo ordered in God's wisdom, 
ourselves in the enticement of the sweet Bummer. Its 
music and it- loveliness win away the senses that link up the af- 
fections, and we Deed a hand to turn us back tenderly, and hide 
from ns the outward idols, in whose worship we are forgetting the- 
high and more spiritual altars. 



LESSON CXXXIX. 

DAVID'S LAMENTATION FOR SAUL AND JONATHAN. BIBLE. 

1. The beauty of Israel is slain upon the high places; how are 
the mighty fallen ! tell it not in Oath, publish it not in the streets 
of Askalon ; lest the daughters of the Philistines rejoice, lest the 
daughters of the uncircumcised triumph. 

2. Ye mountains of Gilboa, let there be no dew, neither let 
there be rain upon you, nor fields of offerings ; for there the shield 
of the mighty is vilely cast away, the shield of Saul, as though bo 
had not been anointed with oil. 

3. From the blood of the slain, from the fat of the mighty, the 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 361 

bow of Jonathan turned not back, and the sword of Saul returned 
not empty. Saul and Jonathan were lovely and pleasant in their 
lives, and in their death they were not divided ; they were swifter 
than eagles, they were stronger than lions. 

4. Ye daughters of Israel, weep over Saul, who clothed you in 
scarlet, with other delights ; who put on ornaments of gold on your 
apparel. How are the mighty fallen in the midst of the battle ! 

5. Jonathan ! thou wast slain in thy high places. I am dis- 
tressed for thee, my brother Jonathan : very pleasant hast thou 
been unto me : thy love to me was wonderful, passing the love of 
women, How are the mighty fallen, and the weapons of war 
perished ! 



LESSON CXL. 

THE PLEASURES OF OLD AGE. DIARY OF LADY WILLOUGHBY. 

1. Oxe forenoon I did prevail with my mother to let them 
carry her to a considerable distance from the house, to a sheltered, 
sunny spot, whereunto we did often resort formerly to hear the 
wood-pigeons which frequented the fir-trees hereabout. We seated 
ourselves, and did pass an hour or two very pleasantly. 

2. She remarked, " How merciful it was ordered that these 
pleasures should remain to the last days of life ; that when the 
infirmities of age make the company of others burdensome to us 
and ourselves a burden to them, the quiet contemplation of the 
works of God -affords a simple pleasure which needeth not aught 
else than a contented mind to enjoy. 

3. "The singing of birds, even a single flower, or a pretty spot 

like this, with its bank of primroses, and the brook running in 

there below, and this warm sunshine, how pleasant they are. 

They take back our thoughts to our youth, which age doth love 

to look back upon." 

16 



dbz COBB'S SP i: a B E R. 

OF DELAYS. — LORD BACOV. 

1. Fortune is like the market where, many times, if rou can 
stay b little, the price will fall; and again, it is like the Sibyl's 
offer, who at first offereth the commodity at full, then consu- 
metib part and pari, ami still holdeth up the price. There i> surely 
no greater wisdom than well to time the beginnings and i 

of things. 

2. Dangers are oomore light if thej once seem light : andmore 
dan--, re have deceived men than breed them. Nay. it were better 
to meet Borne dangers half-way, though they come nothing near, 
than bo keep too long a watch upon their approaches; for if a man 
watch too long, it is odds he will fall asleep. 

3. On the other aide, to be deceived with too long sbadov 

some have 1 n, when the moon was low and shone on their 

enemies, and bo to shoot off before the time; or, to teach dangers 
to come on, by an over-early buckling towards them, is another 
extreme. 

4. The ripeness or unripeness of the occasion must ever be well 
weighed; and. generally, it is good to commit the beginning 

all great actions to Argus with bis hundred eyes, and the end- to 
Briareus with his hundred hands ; first to watch, and then to 
speed. 



LESSON CXLI. 

THE LAMENT OF THE SIGHTLESS. JB88IX OLBK. 

1. Oh, I hear them tell of a canopy fair, 

That stretches its blue wing, far up in the air, 
They say it is gemmed with the pale stars of night, 
That sparkle and gleam in the witching moonlight ; 
But when I look up, all is darkness to me, 
For I can not see ! I can not see ! 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 363 

2. I bear of the flowers that round me are blooming, 
And my spirit finds joy in their sweet perfuming ; 
The rose and the clematis surely are fair, 

For feeling can tell me that beauty is there, 
But those lovely tints are not painted for me, 
For I can not see ! I can not see ! 

3. The Zephyr's sweet wing rustles over me now, 
I feel its soft breath fan the curls on my brow ; 
Hark ! it speaks to me too, in its own, sweet way, 
Oh, would I might feel it, ere passing away ! 

I will touch it just once, but where can it be ? 
Oh, I can not see ! I can not see 1 

4. The rays of the sun, which they tell me are bright, 
I feel on my cheek, though a stranger to sight ; 
While music's low tones gently steal to my ear, 
And pining to see it, I scarcely can hear ; 

But music and sunbeams are nothing to me, 
For I can not see ! I can not see ! 

5. The look of affection, how grateful to some, 

And caught from its beams, what fond feelings must come ; 
Oh, would that its form could but dawn on my mind, 
But a glance from a loved one, is not for the blind, 
Oh, why must this world be all darkness to me, 

Why may I not see ? Why may I not see ? 

6. Then is there no joy for the sightless one, say ? 
Must the beauties of Earth, all unseen pass away ? 
Then I will look up to a bright world above, 
Where all shall be happy, and peaceful, in love, 
And then from this darkness, my eyes shall be free, 

For there I shall see ! There I shall see ! 



364 COBB'S SPEAK I. i;. 

LE8SON 02 U I. 

EULOGY OH CHANCELLOB LIVINGSTON AND ROBEB1 rULTOlf. — 
DS win t LINTON. 

1. Wb have thus Been Mr. Livingston converting tin- lesson- of 
hia experience and obsen ation into sources of practical and general 
utility. He was not one of those remote sun-, whose Light and 
heat have not yel reached our planetary system. IIi> object, his 
ambition, bis study. was to do the greatest good to tl 
number. 

2. There is no d< >ul »t but that he fell the extent «»f hia own powers, 
and the plenitude of his own resources; bul he bore hia faculties 
meekly about him, never offending the pride or the delicacy of his 
associates by arrogance or by intrusion, by neglect or by slight, l>y 
acting the oracle oar dictator. 

3. He was an eminenl arbiter elegantiarum, or judge of pro- 
priety; bis conversation was unpremeditated; it abounded with 

brilliant wit, With apposite illustration-, and with various and 

extended knowledge, always as gentle as " zephyrs blowing below 
the violet," and always exhibiting the overflowings of a fertile mind. 
Hi- great qualities were attended with a due sense of Ins own im- 
perfections, and of his limited powers. 

4. lie did not see in himself the tortoise of the Indian, or the 
atlas of the heathen mythology, sustaining the universe. Nor did 
he keep himself at an awful distance, wrapped in gloomy abstrac- 
tion, or veiled in mysterious or supercilious dignity. He knew that 
the fraternity of mankind is a vast assemblage of good and evil, of 
light and darkness, and that the whole chain of human being is 
connected, by the charities of life, by the ties of mutual dependance, 
and reciprocal benevolence. 

5. Such was Robert R. Livingston. He was not one of those 
factitious characters, who rise up and disappear like the mountains 
of sand which the wind raises in the deserts; nor did he pretend 
to possess a mind illuminating all the departments of knowledge, 
like that great elementary substance which communicates the 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 365 

principles of vitality to all animated nature ; but he will be ranked, 
by the judgment of impartial posterity, among the great men of 
the revolution ; and, in the faithful pages of history, he will be 
classed with George Clinton, John Jay, Pierre Van Cortlandt, 
Philip Schuyler, William Floyd, Philip Livingston, Gouverneur 
Morris, James Duane, John Morin Scott, and the other venerable 
and conscript fathers of the state. 

6. Fortunately for the interests of mankind, Mr. Livingston 
became acquainted with Robert Fulton, a self-created great man, 
who has risen into distinguished usefulness, and into exalted emi- 
nence, by the energies of his own genius, unsupported by extrinsic 
advantages. 

7. Mr. Fulton had directed the whole force of his mind to 
mathematical learning and to mechanical philosophy. Plans of 
defence against maritime invasion and of sub-aquatic navigation 
had occupied his reflections. During the late war he was the 
Archimedes of his country. 

8. The poet was considered under the influence of a disordered 
imagination when he exclaimed, 

" Soon shall thy arm, unconquered steam ! afar 
Drag the slow barge or drive the rapid car, 
Or on wide- waving wings expanded bear 
The flying chariot through the fields of air." — Darwin. 

9. The connexion between Livingston and Fulton realized, to a 
great degree, the vision of the poet. All former experiments had 
failed, and the genius of Fulton, aided and fostered by the public 
spirit and discernment of Livingston, created one of the greatest 
accommodations for the benefit of mankind. These illustrious men 
will be considered, through all time, as the benefactors of the 
world ; they will be emphatically hailed as the Castor and Pollux 
of antiquity, lucida sidera, stars of excellent light and of most 
benign influence. 

10. Mr. Fulton was personally well known to most who hear 
me. To those who were favored with the high communion of his 
superior mind, I need not expatiate on the wonderful vivacity, ac- 



366 COBB'S BPEAKB& 

tivity, comprehension, and clearness of his intellectual faculties; 
and while he was meditating plana of mighty import for his future 
feme and his country's good, he was cut down in the prime of his 
life and in the midst of his usefalni 

11. Like the mIi'-I. inning tree of Gambia, he was destroyed by 
the fire of hie own genius, and the never-ceasing activity of a 
vigorous mind. And ohl may we not humbly hope that his 
immortal spirit, disimbodied from its material eneuml. ranee, has 
taken Ma flight to die world of pure intellect, "where the wicked 
from troubling, and the weary are at r< 



LESSON CXLIII. 

GENIUS AND ITS REWARDS. MRS. E. C. EMBURY. 

1. What a glorious gift is that of eloquent utterance ! The 
laurels of the warrior are only achieved on the field of blood ; the 
honors of the statesman depend on the fickle breath of the multi- 
tude ; but the author, the creator, he who in the seclusion of his 
closet can commune with the solemn majesty of truth, whose 
oracles he has been chosen to interpret ; he who can people the 
narrow limits of his solitary chamber with images of beauty ; he 
who, amid the sands of worldliness has found the " diamond of the 
desert," while its sweet w r aters are welling up in all their freshness 
and purity ; what a noble power is his ! 

2. And what a strange and mystic faculty is that which gives 
to " airy nothings" such shapes as make them seem, even to the 
coarse-minded worldling, like familiar friends ; which imparts to 
unsubstantial dreams a visible and life-like presence ; which invests 
the impalpable shadows of the brain with the attributes of humanity, 
and demands for these fairy creatures of the fancy our kindliest and 
warmest sympathy ! What a godlike gift is that which enables 
the lonely student to sway the minds of myriads on whom his eye 
may never rest with a glance of friendly recognition ; to move as 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 367 

if by one impulse the hearts of thousands ; to stir up high and 
holy feelings in bosoms which the commerce of the world and the 
exigencies of life had chilled and hardened ! 

3. Yet it is with the mind as with the body ; the exercise of our 
physical energies is delightful in proportion as it is the act of un- 
fettered volition. The man who, in the sportiveness of health and 
spirits, will go into the woodland and make the strokes of his axe 
ring through the forest aisles, would find little pleasure in the same 
labor if necessity had driven him to become a hewer of wood. 
The well trained dancer, whose lithe form moves to" the voice of 
music as if she were but an imbodiment of the spirit of harmony, 
feels none of the pure joy which once possessed her, when, in the 
freedom of childish mirth, her dance was but the evidence of a 
lightsome heart. 

4. It is only when the will is left free to direct the faculties that 
we can derive full gratification from our consciousness of power ; 
and if this be true of the body, that mere machine which, from its 
earliest sentient moment, is submitted to restraint and subjection ; 
how much more so is it of the free and unchained mind. It mat- 
ters not whether the fetters that are laid upon the soul be forged 
from the iron sceptre of necessity, or wrought from the golden 
treasures of ambition ; still they are but chains, and he who would 
feel the true majesty of mental power must never have worn the 
badge of thralldom. 

5. It is not the triumph of satisfied ambition which affords the 
highest gratification to the truly noble-minded. Intellectual toil 
is its own exceeding great reward. The applause of the world 
may gladden the heart and quicken the pulse of the aspirant for 
fame, but the brightest crown that was ever laid on the brow of 
genius imparts no such thrill of joy as he felt in that delicious 
moment when the consciousness of power first came upon him. 

6. It is this sense of power, this innate consciousness of hidden 
strength, which is his most valued guerdon ; and well would it be 
for him if the echo of worldly fame never resounded in the quiet, 
secluded chambers of his secret soul ! Well would it be if no 
hand ever offered to his lips the cup of adulation, whose magic 



368 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

sweetness awakens a thirst do repeated draughts ran slake! 
Well would it be if the voice of a clamorous multitude 
mingled with the Bweeter music of his owd gentle fane 

7. Well would it be it' be could always abide in the pure regions 

ated thought, leaving the raista and the darkness, the light- 
nings and tempests of a lower world, beneath hit fitian, 
living amidst wealth and honors, and d\ ing in the arms of a weep- 
ing monarch, presents to the eye of thought a far Less noble picture 
than the poor, unfriended, humble Correggio, when, at the right 
of bod - works of art, the veil which had hidden his own 
is suddenly Lifted from bis eyes, and l«- exclaim- 
ed, in the ecstasy of an enlightened spirit, " to anche bo pittor 
too am a painter] 

8. With tin- first knowledge of innate power to the mind of 
genius comes also tin- desire of benefiting humanity, and, at that. 
moment, when the fire which God has Lighted within the soul 
hum- upward with a steady lighl towards Beaven, while it diffuses 
it- pure splendors on a darkened world around ; at such a mo 
man is, indeed, hut Little lower than the angels. 

" Could he keep his spirit to this pitch 
He might be happy ■/' 

but, alas! the mists of earth rise up around him; the light is dim- 
med upon the altar; less holy gleams shoot athwart the growing 
darkness, and, too often, the fading flame of spiritual existence is 
rekindled at the bale-fires of the nether world. 

9. There is something fearful in the responsibility which attaches 
to the expression of human thought and feeling. " We may have 
done that yesterday," says Madame de Stael, " which has colored 
our whole future life." Appalling as this idea is, the reflection that 
in some idle mood and in some uncounted moment now gone past 
recall, we may have uttered that which has influenced the opinions, 
the feelings, perhaps the fate of another, is even more terrific to 
the conscience. 

10. Who can not recollect some single word, some careless re- 
mark, which, coming from lips fraught with eloquence, or uttered 



COBB'S SPEAKEB. 369 

from a heart filled with truth, has affected our early fortunes and 
perhaps our life-long destiny ? Who can not look back upon 
some moment in life when the unconscious accents of another have 
withheld the foot which already pressed the verge of some fright- 
ful precipice ? Who can not recall, in bitter anguish of spirit, some 
hour when the " voice of the charmer" has won the soul to evil 
influences and late remorse ? 

11. If such things come within the experience of each one of us, 
(and that they do, no one can doubt,) may not every human being, 
however humble, feel awed before the simple power of human ex- 
pression ? Oh ! it is a fearful thing to pom- out one's soul in elo- 
quent utterance ! fearful, because it opens the inner sanctuary to 
the gaze of vulgar eyes ; fearful, because its oracular voice is rarely 
interpreted aright ; doubly fearful, because even its most truthful 
sayings may be of evil import to those who listen to its teachings. 



LESSON CXLIV. 

THE HOME FOR THE FRIENDLESS. MRS. F. S. OSGOOD. 

[Composed for, and sung at the Dedication of the " home foe the 
friendless,' oOth-street, New York, Dec. 1849.] 

1. Thou, whose love is always o'er us, 

Wheresoe'er our wanderings be ; 
Thou, whose angels float before us, 
Viewless, luring all to Thee ! 

2. Gazing thro' the clouds of sorrow, 

With a pitying smile, whose ray 
Paints thy promise for the morrow, 
In the glowing rainbow's play. 

3. Thou, who speakest worlds to being, 

Deign our humble home to bless ! 
WTiere the lone and friendless fleeing, 
Shall thy guiding hand confess. 
16* 



370 dOBB'fl BPBAKIK. 

(Into thee, ban ting 

Our glad work in happy band*, 

Here may we abide, Awaiting 
Thine own u Bouse not made with hands." 



LESSON CXLV. 

. — i.rii.itAitv BMPOBIUlf. 

1. N'u the lead remarkable featarei in the Great Western Val- 
ley an :i are found in every direction over th^ 

•ry. Thi . the iwell 

rolling, and the level or flat The forn undulating 

fields, broken uri ions lengths and breadths, 

extending sometimes to an altitude of sixty or seventy : 

2. ]'- which are 
orally marshy, and, in many instances, contain small lak 

of funnel-, and 
amilar purpose in carrying off water into th«* ea 

which i> indicated by the soil above. 
The fiat prairies are plains of rich alluvion, grown with long, lank 
grass, and occasionally presenting a lake, and often studded here 
and there with groves of the wild crab-apple, i 
trees, that appear like emerald isles in a E green. 

3. Prairies are of various extent, from one mile to hundreds of 
miles. The largest are in the far-off West, the Lome of the buffalo 
and the red hunter. Wherever they are partly cultivate 

of them are, in the " States," and where the annual fires are dis- 
continued, they soon grow up with timber. The soil is, with 
few exceptions, entirely alluvial, and yields immense crops of In- 
dian corn and other coarse grain. 

4. When they exist in the neighborhood of settlements, they 
afford excellent pasturage for horses and cattle, and fine range 
swine, and are traversed by herds of deer, the number of which 
increases near the plantations, when not in too close proximity, as 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 371 

their greatest enemies, the black and prairie wolves, decrease as 
cultivation advances. Wild turkeys, ducks, prairie fowls or grouse, 
and quails, and rabbits, also abound on the prairies, and afford 
great amusement to sportsmen. Numerous other animals, as the 
gopher, the opossum, the rackoon, <fec. <fcc, are found in them, or 
on their borders. 

5. The wayfarer over these wide savannas will sometimes be 
startled by a sound as of hounds on the hunt, and anon a noble 
" buck of ten tines" will leap past him, followed by a pack of 
hungry wolves, yelping as they run in hot pursuit ; but he will 
look in vain for the sportsmen of the field : he can but fancy that 
invisible hunters, " horsed on the viewless couriers of the air," are 
tracking their game, and urging the wild chase. Some theorists 
believe the prairies to have been very anciently the beds of lakes 
or of the sea. This opinion finds arguments in the alluvious char- 
acter of their soil, and in the marine shells, which are invariably 
found imbedded in the limestone of the adjacent bluffs. 

6. When the grass is thoroughly ripe, in the autumn, towards 
the close of November, most of the prairies are burnt. The fires 
sometimes originate by accident, but more often from the design of 
the hunters, to facilitate them in the destruction of game. The dry 
grass, which then is often as high as a man's head on horseback, 
burns with a fierce and terrible rapidity, and extends the flames for 
miles in a few minutes, impressing the beholder with the idea of 
a general conflagration. 

7. If the wind chances to be high, tufts of the burning material 
dart like flaming meteors through the air ; and, far as the eye can 
reach, a pall of black smoke stretches to the horizon and over- 
hangs the scene, while all below is lighted up, and blazing with 
furious intensity ; and ever and anon, flaming wisps of grass flash 
up, revolving and circling in the glowing atmosphere, and lending 
to the imagination a semblance of convict-spirits, tossing in a lake 
of fire. The birds, startled and bewildered, scream wildly, and 
tumble and roll about above the flames ; the affrighted deer leaps 
from his covert and courses madly away ; and, the terrified wolf, 
forgetful of the chase, runs howling, in an adverse direction. 



372 COBB'S .Sl'KAKKIi. 

8. When an experienced hunter finds himself upon a praii 
which fire has been applied, he immediately kindle* a Ore near 
him, (as did the old trapper in Qooper's novel of "The Prairie,") 
and the wind bears the flames onward, burning a path before him, 
which he follows i » a place of safety, and th 3 a horrid 
fete, that I. ut for his sagacity would have been inevitable, 
prairie on fire ran sometiiu d at a distance of fifty miles. 

9. The fire continues until the grass i- all consumed, and not 
unfrequently it i- carried b) the wind into tin- adjacent forest, 
which it blasts and devastates, until checked by a water-course. 
Early in ti. - renew their verdant clothing, 
long before their next autumnal burning, all of the pre- 
ceding conflagrations are gone, unless perhaps some worn, 

and sapless tree, in one of the island-like clusters, may show by 
its blackened trunk and leafless branches that th-' flames have 
been there, 

10. In no possible condition can tin- prairies be seen, without 
excitis 1 peculiar and most lively interest Tiny ire 
gloriously beautiful or awfully terrible, according to the times and 
seasons in which th-y are beheld. Winn viewed in the broad 
glare of day, they seem like large lakes, gently undulating in the 
breeze, and their variegated flowers flash in the sun like phospho- 

on tin- >urface of the water. Seen by moonlight, 
they appear calm and placid as the lagunes of Venice, and the 
beholder almost wonders why they do not retlect back the starry 
glories of the sky above them. 

11. In storms, the clouds that hang over them seem to "come 
more near the earth than is their wont" in other places, and the 
lightning sweeps closely to their surface, as if to mow them with a 
fiery scythe; while, as the blast blows through them, the tall 
grass bends and surges before it, and gives forth a shrill whistling 
sound, as if every fibre were a harp-string of ./Eolus. In the spring 
they put forth their rich verdure, embossed with the early wild 
flowers of many hues, spreading a gorgeous carpeting, which no 
Turkish fabric can equal. 

12. At this season, in the early dawn, while the mists hang 



COBB'S SPEAKEK. 373 

upon their borders, curling in folds like curtains, through, which 
the morning sheds a softened light, " half revealed half concealed'' 
by the vapory shadows that float fitfully over the scene, they appear 
now light, now shaded, and present a panorama ever varying, 
brightening and darkening, until the mists roll up, and the un- 
curtained sun reveals himself in the full brightness of his rising. 
In the summer, the long grass stoops and swells with every breath 
of the breeze, like the waves of the heavino- ocean, and the bright 
blossoms seem to dance and laugh in the sunshine, as they toss 
their gaudy heads to the rustling music of the passing wind. 

13. The prairies are, however, most beautiful when the first 
teints of autumn are upon them ; when their lovely flowers, in ten 
thousand varieties, are decked in their gorgeous foliage ; when the 
gold and purple blossoms are contrasted with the emerald-green 
surface and silver linings of their rich leaves, and all the hues of 
the iris, in every modification, show themselves on all sides, to 
dazzle, bewilder, and amaze. Bleak, desolate, and lonely as a 
Siberian waste, the prairie exhibits itself in winter, pathless and 
trackless ; one vast expanse of snow, seemingly sjDread out to in- 
finity, like the winding-sheet of a world. 

14. The traveller to the Rocky Mountains may rise with the 
early morning, from the centre of one of the great prairies, and 
pursue his solitary journey until the setting of the sun, and yet not 
reach its confines, which recede into the dim, distant horizon, that 
seems its only boundary. 

15. He will hear, however, the busy hum of the bee, and mark 
the myriads of parti-colored butterflies and other insects, that flit 
around him ; he will behold tens of thousand of buffaloes, gra zing- 
in the distance, and the savage but now peaceful Indian intent 
upon the hunt; and he will see troops of wild horses speeding- 
over the plain, shaking the earth with their unshod hoofs, tossing 
their free manes like streamers in the wind, and snorting fiercely 
with distended nostrils ; the fleet deer will now and then dart by 
him ; the wolf will rouse from his lair, and look askaunt and growl 
at him ; and the little prairie-dog will run to the top of its tiny 
mound and bark at him before it retreats to its den within it. 



37-1 COBB- 4 8 SPEAKER. 

16. No human being may be the companion of tin- traveller in 

the immense solitude, yet will be feel that hen not alone; the 
wide expanse is populous with myriad- of creatures; and, m the 
emphatic language of the red man, "The Grsat Siikit is upon 

the Train' 



LESSON CXLVL 

en \i;.\( n.K 01 IBCUMSBH. — STUDENT. 

1. Tin- celebrated aboriginal warrior, Tecumseh, was in the 
forty-fourth year of hia age, when he fell at the battle of the 
Thames. He waB of the Shawnee tribe, five feet ten inches high, 
well formed for activity and the endurance of fatigue, which he was 
capable of sustaining in a very extraordinary degree. 

2. Hia carriage was erect and lofty ; his motion quick ; hie 
penetrating; his visage stern, with an air of haughtiness in his 
countenance, which arose from an elevated pride of soul ; it did not 
leave him even in death. His eloquence waa nervous, concise, im- 
pressive, figurative, and sarcastic ; being of taciturn habit of speech, 
his words were few, but always to the purpose. 

3. His dress was plain ; he was never known to indulge in the 
gaudy decoration of his person, which is the general practice of the 
Indians. lie wore, on the day of his death, a dressed deer-skin 
coat and pantaloons. He could neither read, write, nor speak 
English. 

4. He was in every respect a " savage ;" the greatest, perhaps, 
since the days of Pontiac. His ruling maxim in war was to take 
no prisoners, and be strictly adhered to the sanguinary purposes of 
his soul ; he neither gave nor accepted quarter. Yet paradoxical 
as it may seem, to the prisoners, in one instance, he is said to have 
buried his tomahawk in the head of a Chippewa chief, whom he 
found actively engaged in massacring some of Dudley's men, after 
they had been made prisoners by the British and Indians. 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 375 

5. It had long been a favorite project of this aspiring chief, to 
unite the Northern, Western, and Southern Indians, for the pur- 
pose of regaining their country as far as Ohio. Whether this 
grand idea originated in his own or his brother's mind, or was 
suggested by the British, is not known ; but this much is certain, 
he cherished the plan with enthusiasm, and actually visited the 
Creek Indians, to prevail on them to join in the undertaking. He 
was always opposed to the sale of the Indian lands. 

6. In a council at Yincennes, in 1810, he was found equal to the 
insidious arts of diplomatists. In one of his speeches, he pro- 
nounced General Harrison a liar. He was in almost every battle 
with the Americans, from the time of Harmer's defeat to that of 
the Thames. He was several times wounded, and always sought 
the hottest of the fire. A few minutes before he received the fatal, 
fire of Colonel Johnson, he had received a musket ball in his left 
arm ; yet, his efforts to conquer ceased only with his life. 

1. When a youth and before the treaty of Grenville, he had so 
often signalized himself, that he was reputed one of the boldest of 
the Indian warriors. In the first settlement of Kentucky, he was 
peculiarly active in seizing boats going down the Ohio, killing the 
passengers, and carrying off their people. He made frequent in- 
cursions in Kentucky, where he would invariably murder some of 
the settlers, and escape with several horses laden with plunder. 
He always eluded pursuit, and when too closely pursued, would 
retire to the Wabash. 

8. His ruling passion seems to have been glory ; he was care- 
less of wealth, although his plundering and subsidies must have 
amounted to a great sum ; he preserved little for himself. After 
his fall on the fifth of October, his person was viewed with great 
interest by the officers and soldiers of Harrison's army. It was 
some time before the identity of his person was sufficiently recog- 
nised to remove all doubts as to the certainty of his death. 



876 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

LESSOR C3 Mil. 

'ini: DI LTH OP n LPOl I IC m'i.i.i I ami, .ik. 

[•• The fifth of -May game amidst wind andraia Napoleon's ptiriitc spirit 

was deliriously engaged in a Bti ife more terrible thao the elementi around 

The words ' 7\ >> 'iAriH'',' (hea 1 of the army,) the last which escaped from 

liis lip-, intimated thai his thoughts were watching the correal eta heady 

About eleven minutes before six in the evening, Napoleon expired." 

of Napoleon.] 

1. Wild was the night, yet a wilder night 
Hung round the soldier's pillow, 

In bis bosom there waged a fiercer i i l_t 1 * t , 
Than the fight on the wrathful billow] 

2. A few fond mourners were kneeling by, 
The few that hi- stern heart cherished; 
They knew by hi- glazed and unearthlj 
That life had nearly perished. 

3. They knew by his awful and kingly l<x>k, 
By the order hastily Bpoken, 

That he dreamed of days, when the Nations shook, 
And the Nations 1 hosts were broken. 

4. He dreamed that the Frenchman's sword still slew, 
And triumphed the Frenchman's u eagle;" 

And the struggling Austrian fled anew, 
Like the hare before the beagle. 

5. The bearded Russian he scourged again, 
The Prussian's camp was routed, 

And again on the hills of haughty Spain, 
His mighty armies shouted. 

C. Over Egypt's sands, over Alpine's snows, 
At the Pyramids, at the mountain, 
Where the wave of the lordly Danube flows, 
And by the Italian fountain ; 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 377 

*l. On the snowy cliffs, where mountain-streams 
Dash by the Switzer's dwelling, 
He led again, in his dying dreams, 
His hosts, the broad earth quelling. 

8. Again Marengo's field was won, 
And Jena's bloody battle ; 
Again the world was overrun, 
Made pale, at his cannons' rattle. 

9. He died at the close of that darksome day ; 
A day that shall live in story : 

In. the rocky land they placed his clay, 
" And left him alone with his glory." 



LESSON CXLVIII. 



THE MISSOURI RIVER. T. FLINT S HISTORY OF THE WEST. 

1. This is by far the greatest tributary of the Mississippi, bring- 
ing down more water than the Upper Mississippi itself. In fact, it 
is a longer river than the Mississippi, from its farthest source to 
the Mexican Gulf. There are many circumstances which render 
it one of the most interesting of rivers ; and it is clearly the 
longest tributary, stream on .the globe. Many have thought, that, 
from its length, the amount of its waters, and the circumstance of 
its communicating its own character, in every respect, to the 
Mississippi below the junction, that it ought to have been considered 
the main river, and to have continued to bear its own name to 
the sea. 

2. In opposition to this claim, we remark, that the valley of the 
Missouri seems, in the grand scale of conformation, to be secondary 
to that of the Mississippi. The Missouri has not the general direction 
of that river, which it joins nearly at right angles. The valley 



378 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

of tlit* Mississippi is widei than that of 1 1 1 • - Missouri, as ii also 
the river broader than the other. The course of the river, ana 
the direction of the valley, are the same, above and below the junc- 
tion of the Missouri. Prom these, and many other considerations, 
the "father of waters* 1 Beams fairly entitled to the Dame which be 
has so long borne. 

3. It- prodigious length of course, its uncommon turbidne 
impetuous and wild character, and the singular country through 

which it rans, impart to this river a natural grandeur, belonging 

to ih«- sublime. We have never crossed it without experiencing 
a feeling of that sort ; nor without a Btretch, almost laborious in 

•••nipi to trace it in thought, along it- immense diets 
and through its distant region and countries, to the lonely and 

Stupendous mountains from which it spru 

4. It rises in the Rocky Mountain-, Dearly in the same parallel 
to the Mississippi The most authentic information we ha v< 

had of the sources of this mighty river, is from its first intrepid 
American discoverers, Lewis and Clarke. What may properly he 
called the Missouri, seems to be formed by three considerable 
branches, which unite not far from the basis of the principal ranges 

of the mountains. To the northern, they u r; * v * - the name of Jeffer- 
son ; to the middle, Gallatin; to the southern, Madison. Each 
of these branches folk again into a number of small mountain 
streams. It i- hut a short distance from some of these to the head- 
waters of the Columbia, on the other side of the mountains. A 
person may drink from the spring sources of each, without travel- 
ling more than a mile. 

5. After this junction, the river continues a considerable distance 
to be still a foaming mountain torrent. It then spreads into a 
broad and comparatively gentle stream, full of islands. Precipi- 
tous peaks of blackish rock frown above the river in perpendicular 
elevations of one thousand feet. The mountains, whose ba 
sweeps, are covered with terebinthines, such as pines, cedars, and 
firs ; and, mountain sheep are seen bounding on their summits, 
where they are apparently inaccessible. In this distance, the 
mountains have an aspect of inexpressible loveliness and grandeur. 



COBB'S SPEAKEK. 379 

6. The river then becomes almost a continued cataract, for a 
distance of about seventeen miles. In this distance, its perpen- 
dicular descent is three hundred and sixty-two feet. The first fall 
is ninety-eight feet ; the second, nineteen ; the third, forty-seven ; 
the fourth, twenty-six. It continues rapid for a long distance 
beyond. Not far below these falls, enters Maria's river from the 
north. This is a very considerable stream. 

7. Still farther down, on the opposite side, enter Dearborn and 
Fancy, each about one hundred and fifty yards wide ; Manoles, one 
hundred; Big Horn, one hundred; Muscle-shell, one hundred; 
Big Dry, four hundred ; Dry, one hundred ; Porcupine, one hun- 
dred and twelve : all these enter from the south side. Below 
these, enter the Roche Jaime, or Yellow Stone, probably the 
largest tributary of the Missouri. It rises in the same range of 
mountains with the main river, and has many points of resemblance 
to it. It enters from the south, by a mouth eight hundred and 
fifty yards wide. It is a broad, deep, and sweeping river ; and, at 
its junction, appears the larger of the two. Its course is commonly 
calculated at one thousand six hundred miles. 

8. But the sizes and lengths of all these tributaries are probably 
overrated. Its shores, for a long distance above its entrance, are 
heavily timbered, and its bottoms wide, and of the finest soil. Its 
entrance is deemed to be one thousand eight hundred and eighty 
miles above the mouth of the Missouri ; and, it was selected by 
government as an eligible situation for a military post, and an ex- 
tensive settlement. White bears, elk, and mountain sheep, are the 
principal animals seen along this part of the river. 

9. At the point of junction with the Yellow Stone, the Missouri 
has wide and fine bottoms. Unfortunately, its banks are, for the 
most part, destitute of timber ; and this, for a long series of years, 
will prevent its capacity for habitancy. White-earth river, from 
the north, is a small stream. Goose river, three hundred yards 
wide, comes in from the south side. Little Missouri is shallow and 
rapid, and is about one hundred and thirty yards wide. Knife 
river comes in from the south, just above the Mandan villages. 
Cannon-ball river enters from the south side, and is one hundred 



380 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

and forty yards wide. Winnipenhu, south side. Serwassena, 
south side. Chienne m represented to be boatable nearly eight 
hundred miles, and enters from the south side, by s month four 
hundred yards wide. Tyber's river. 

10. White river, b atable six hundred miles, south ride, n i very 
beautiful Btream, and has a mouth three hundred yard- wide. 
I [oncas, south side. Qui-Courre, a fine Btream, w itli a short course, 
south Bide. Riviere a Jaque, a noted resort for traders and 
trappers. White Stone, Big Sioux, Floyd's river. La Platte enters 
from the south, and has a longer course than any other rive? of the 
Missouri. It rises in the same ranges of mountains with the 
parent Btream : and, measured by >' s meanders, is supposed bo 
have a course of two thousand miles I" fore it joins that over. It 
is nearly a mile in width at its entrance; but is, as its name im- 
ports, very shallow, and is not boatable except at its highest floods. 
Nodowa, north side. Little Platte, north aide. 

11. Kansas is a very large tributary from the south, and has a 
course of about one thousand two hundred miles, and is boatable 
for most of the distance. Blue Water, and two or three small 
streams below, come in on the south side. Grand river is a large, 
long, and deep Btream, boatable for a great distance}, and enters on 
the north side. The two Charatons come in on the same side. 
The La Mine enters on the south side. Bonne Femme and Muni- 
tou, enter on the north side, and Salt river on the south. 

12. The Osage, which enters on the south side, is a large and 
very important stream of the Missouri, boatable six hundred miles, 
and interlocking with the waters of the Arkansas. Three or four 
inconsiderable streams enter on the opposite side, as Miry, Otter, 
and Cedar rivers. On the south side enters the Gasconade, boat- 
able for sixty-six miles, and is important from having on its banks 
extensive pine forests, from which the great supply of plank and 
timber of that kind is brought to St. Charles and St. Louis. On 
the south side, below the Gasconade, are a number of inconsidera- 
ble rivers ; as Buffalo, St. John's, Wood river, Bonhomme, <fec. : 
and on the other side, the Charette, Femme Osage, and one or 
two small branches, before it precipitates itself into the Mississippi. 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 381 

13. The bottoms of this river have a character very distinguisha- 
ble from those of the upper Mississippi. They are higher, not so 
wet, more sandy, with trees which are not as large, but taller and 
straighter. Its alluvions are something more narrow ; that is to 
say, having for the first five hundred miles a medial width of 
something more than four miles. Its bluff's, like those of the other 
river, are generally limestone, but not as perpendicular, and have 
more tendency to run into the mamelle form. The bottoms abound 
with deer, turkeys, and small game. The river seldom overflows 
any part of its banks in this distance. It is a little inclined to be 
swampy. There are much fewer lakes, bayous, and small ponds, 
than along the Mississippi. 

1 4. Prairies are scarcely seen on the banks of the river, within the 
distance of the first four hundred miles of its course. It is heavily 
timbered ; and yet, from the softness of the wood, easily cleared. 
The water, though uncommonly turbid with a whitish earth, which 
it holds in suspension, soon and easily settles, and is then remarkably 
pure, pleasant, and healthy water. The river is so rapid and sweep- 
ing in its course, and its bed is composed of such masses of sand, 
that it is continually shifting its sand-bars. A chart of the river as 
it runs this year, gives little ground for calculation in navigating it 
the next. It has numerous islands, and generally near them is the 
most difficult to be stemmed. Still more than the Mississippi below 
its mouth, it tears up in one place and deposites in another, and 
makes more frequent and powerful changes in its chancel than any 
other western river. 

15. Its bottoms are considerably settled for a distance of four 
hundred miles above its mouth. That of Charaton is the highest 
compact settlement. But the largest and most populous settle- 
ment in the state, is that called Boone's Lick, Indeed, there are 
American settlements here and there, on the bottoms, above the 
Platte, and far beyond the limits of the state of Missouri. Above 
the Platte, the open prairie character of the country begins to de- 
velop. . The prairies come quite into the banks of the river, and 
stretch fVoni it indefinitely, in naked grass plains, where the trav- 
eller may wander for days without seeing either wood or water. 



382 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

1G. "Council Bl ufts" are an important military station, about 
six hundred miles up the Missouri. Beyond thk point, oommeooei 
a country of great interest and grandeur in many respects, and de> 
nominated, by way of eminence, the Upper Missouri. The coun- 
try iscomposod of rast and almost boundless grass plaint, through 
which stretch the 1'latte, the Fellow Stone, and the other riven 
of this ocean of grass. The savages of this region haw ■ peculiar 

physiognomy and i le of life. It is a country where eeameoes 

new tribes of plants. It is the home erf buffaloes, elk, while beani 
antelopes, and mountain sheep. 

17. Sometimes the river washes the bases of the dark hills of • 
friable and crumbling soiL Eere are found, as Lewis and Clarke 
and other respectable travellers relate, large and singular petrifac- 
tions, both animal and vegetable, ( Mi the top of ODe of these liills 

they found the petrified skeleton of a huge fish, forty-five feet in 
length. The herds of the gregarious animal-, particularly the 
buffaloes, are innumerable. Such is the general character of the 
country, until we oome in contact with the spurs of the Rocky 

Mountains. 

18. As far as the limits of the state this river is capable of -up- 
porting a dense population, for a considerable distance from its 
banks. Above those limits it is generally too destitute of wood 
to become habitable by any other people than hunters and shep- 
herds. All the great tributaries of this river are copies, more or 
less exact, of the parent stream. One general remark applies to 
the whole country. The rivers have a narrow margin of fertility. 
The country, as it recedes from the river, becomes more and more 
steril, sandy, and destitute of water, until it approximates in char- 
acter towards the sandy deserts of Arabia. 

19. The Osage, as we have mentioned, is one of the principal 
tributaries of the Missouri in this state. It comes in on the south 
side of the Missouri, one hundred and thirty miles above its junc- 
tion with the Mississippi. At its mouth, it is nearly four hundred 
yards wide. Its general course is from south to north ; and the 
best cotton country in the state of Missouri is on the head-waters 
of this river. Its principal branches are, Mary's, Big Bona, Yun- 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 383 

gar, Potato, and Grand Fork rivers. Yungar is nearly as large as the 
parent stream, and is navigable for small craft, except at its grand 
cascade, for nearly a hundred miles. The cascade is a great cata- 
ract of ninety feet fall. When the river is full, the roar is heard 
far through the desert. It is a fine country through which the 
river runs. 

20. The entire length of the Missouri, from its source until it 
enters the Mississippi, is computed to be about two thousand two 
hundred and eighty -five miles. It is navigable to the foot of the 
great falls, nearly three thousand eight hundred miles from the 
sea, and steam-boats have ascended it two thousand two hundred 
miles. 



LESSON CXLIX. 

SOURCES OF MISERY IN THE PRESENT WORLD. THOMAS DICK. 

1. In the present world, one of the principal sources of misery, 
arises from the malevolent dispositions, and immoral conduct of 
its inhabitants. Pride, ambition, malignant passions, falsehood, 
deceit, envy, and revenge, which exercise a sovereign sway over 
the hearts of the majority of mankind, have produced more mis- 
ery and devastation among the human race, than the hurricane 
and the tempest, the earthquake and the volcano, and all other 
concussions of the elements of nature. 

2. The lust of ambition has covered kingdoms with sackcloth 
and ashes, levelled cities with the ground, turned villages into 
heaps of smoking ruins, transformed fertile fields into a wilderness, 
polluted the earth with human gore, slaughtered thousands and 
millions of human beings, and filled the once cheerful abodes of 
domestic life with the sounds of weeping, lamentation, and wo. 

3. Injustice and violence have robbed society of its rights and 
privileges, and the widow and fatherless of their dearest enjoy- 
ments. Superstition and revenge have immolated their millions 
of victims, banished peace from the world, and subverted the order 



384 COBB'S SPEAKKK. 

of society. The violation of truth in contracts, affirmation*, and 
promises, has involved nation-, in destruction, and undermined the 
foundations of public prosperity, blasted the good name and tin; 
comfort of families, perplexed and agitated the minds of thousands 
and millions, and thrown contempt on the revelation of heaven, 
and the discoveries of science. 

4. Malic.-, envy, hatred, and similar affections, have stirred up 
Btrife and contentions, which have invaded the peace of individ- 
uals, families, and societies, and imbittered all their enjoyments. 
It k scarcely too much t > affirm, thai more than nine-tenthi of all 
the evils, perplexities, n 1 sorrows, which are the lot of suffering 
humanity, are owing be the wide and extensive operation of such 
diabolical principles aj. i' passions. 

5. What a hap) iness, then, must it be, to mingle in a society 
where Buch mafignftnt affections shall never more shed their bale- 
ful influence, and where love, peace, and harmony, mutual esteem, 
brotherly-kindness, and charity, arc for ever triumphant I To de- 
part from a world wlcn- selfishness and malignity, strife and dis- 
sensions, wars and devastations so gen< rally prevail, and to enter 
upon a Bcene of enjoyment where the smiles of benevolence beam 
from the countenances of unnumbered glorious intelligences, must 
raise in the soul the most ecstatic rapture, and be the ground- 
wort of all those other "pleasures which are at God's right hand 
for evermore." 

G. Even in this world, amidst the physical evils which now ex- 
ist, what a scene of felicity would be produced, were all the illus- 
trious philanthropic characters now living, or which have adorned 
our race in &e ages that are past, to be collected into one society, 
and to associate exclusively, without annoyance from " the world 
that lieth in wickedness !" 

7. Let us suppose a vast society composed of such characters as 
Moses, Elijah, Jeremiah, Daniel, Paul, James, and John, the Evan- 
gelists, men who accounted it their highest honor to glorify God 
and to promote the salvation of mankind, such philanthropists as 
Howard, Clarkson, Venning, and Sharpe, wdio displayed the most 
benignant affections, and spent their mortal existence in unwearied 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 385 

efforts to meliorate the condition of the prisoner, and relieve the 
distresses of the wretched in every land, to deliver the captive 
from his oppressors, to loose the shackles of slavery, to pour out 
the vital air into the noisome dungeon, and to diffuse blessings 
among mankind wherever they were found ; such profound phi- 
losophers as Locke, Newton, and Boyle, whose capacious intellects 
seemed to embrace the worlds both of matter and of mind, and 
who joined to .their mental accomplishments, modesty, humility, 
equanimity of temper, and genera] benevolence ; such amiable di- 
vines as Watts, Doddridge, Bates, Hervey, Edwards, Lardner, and. 
Dwight, whose hearts burned with zeal to promote the glory of 
their Divine Master, and to advance the present and everlasting in- 
terest of their fellow-men. 

8. To associate perpetually with such characters, even with the 
imperfections and infirmities which cleaved to them in this sublu- 
nary region, would form something approaching to a paradise on 
earth. 



LESSON CL. 

SPEECH UPON THE BILL FOR THE RELIEF OF THE WIDOW OF GEN- 
ERAL HARRISON, IN THE SENATE, JUNE 24, 1841. ISAAC C. 

BATES. 

1. Mr. President, I too have an objection to this bill, but it 
is not the objection urged by the senator from South Carolina : 
that there is no specification of the services of General Harrison, 
nor of the expenses incurred by himself and family. If there were 
a bill of particulars upon your table, I would not look into it. I 
should scorn to. My objection is rather to the insufficiency of the 
grant. 

2. General Harrison having been called from the highest ser- 
vice of his country, having died in the service of his country, I 
would have given to his widow at least half pay ; fifty thousand 
instead of twenty-five thousand dollars. When the thought occurs 

11 



386 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

to me what General Harrison was and what he is; when I 
sider the bereit and d mdition of bis family, the hopes that 

have been disappointed, the prospects that have been suddenly 
and sadly changed ; Buch hope! Buch prosp 
cheering, so glorious, it' any thing among the shadows of earth c n 
be called so ! hopes crushed, prosp Ight eclipsed al 

and for ever ! 

3. I say, Mr. President, if I ran do nothing to administer con- 
solation, I will do all that is permitted me to afford relief, i 
ton demand by what authorit; rill tell 
them, sir. I make it, fire! of all, by the permission which 1 find 
here, in tl, hies of a common nature, where the whole 
American people will find it, and where every man that has a 
heart in him will find it. 

4. 1 make it by the authority which I find inscribed upon the 
same page with the authority you exerted in making the grant of 
a pear's pay to the surviving family of General Brown; in the lib- 
eral grant you made to the surviving family of the latesergeant-at- 
arms; in the grant of like kind j upon the death of the door- 
keeper of the 1 Louse i »f Representatives, I find it also upon the 
where Congress found it, for the grant of twenty thousand dollars, 
to feed, clothe, and shelter, tie dexandria, whom the 
ravages of fire had made houseless, homeless, and penniless. 

5. I find it, moreover, in broa-1 relief upon the page upon which 
you find the authority you exercise in burying the dead out of 
your sight, and in shrouding this chamber in the drapery of 
mourning that befits the present occasion. I find full authority, 
not merely in the precedents of every year since the foundation of 
the government, but in the second article of the Constitution, 
which requires that the United States .shall have a President, and 
shall pay him a compensation for his services. 

6. What that compensation shall be, in case he survive his term 
of office, a law of Congress has fixed ; but in case he do not, it has 
made no provision. In the happening of such a melancholy con- 
tingency, it is left for Congress, under the Constitution, to make it. 
I shall, therefore, vote for this bill in the entire confidence that I 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 387 

am sustained by the most undoubted authority, as well as cheered 
by the approval of that which I value not less, and in the full be- 
lief that the State which has honored me with a seat in the Senate 
will feel itself disgraced if I do not. 



LESSON CLI. 

IMMENSE NATURAL BEE-HIVE. TEXAS TELEGRAPH. 

1. In a cavern on the light bank of the Colorado, about seven 
miles from Austin, there is an immense hive of wild bees. The en- 
trance of this cavern is situated in a ledge of limestone, forming a 
high cliff which rises almost perpendicularly from the river bank, to 
the height of about one hundred and fifty feet from the water's edge. 

2. In a warm day, a dark stream of bees may be constantly seen 
winding out from the cavern, like a long, dark wreath. The stream 
often appears one or two feet in diameter near the cliff, and grad- 
ually spreads out like a fan, growing thinner at a distance from 
the cavern, until it disappears. The number of bees in this cavern 
must be greater than the number in one thousand or ten thousand 
ordinary hives. 

3. The bees, it is said, have never swarmed, and it is not im- 
probable that the hive has continued for more than a century to 
increase year after year, in the same ratio that other swarms in- 
crease. Some of the neighboring settlers have repeatedly, by 
blasting the rocks, opened a passage into some of those chambers, 
and produced, by this means, many hundred pounds of honey. 
But the main deposites are situated too deep in the ledge to be 
reached without great difficulty, and perhaps danger. 

4. It was estimated that there were many tuns of honey and 
wax in this immense hive ; and, if its treasures could be extracted 
readily, they would, doubtless, be far more valuable than the con- 
tents of any silver or gold mine that adventurers have been seek- 
ing for years in that section. 



388 COBB'S SPEAK BR, 



LESSON CLII. 

jiil: );vi;mm; wind. — BRYAM. 

1. Spirit, that breathes through my lattice, thou 

That cool'st the twilight of the Bultry day, 
Gratefully flows thy freshness round nay l»row; 

Thou hast been out upon the deep at play, 
Riding all day, the wild, blue waves, till now 

Rough'ning their crests, and scattering high their spray, 
And swelling tin* white sail I welcome thee 
To tli<- scorched land, thou wanderer of the - 

2. Xor I alone; a thousand bosom- round 

Inhale thee in the fulness of delight ; 
And languid forme rise up, and pulses bound 

Livelier at coming of the wind of night; 
And, languishing to hear thy grateful sound, 

Lies the vast inland, stretched beyond the sight. 
Go forth into the _ _ shade ; go forth, 

God's blessing breathed upon the fainting earth ! 

3. Go, rock the little wood-bird in his nest ; 

Curl the still waters, bright with stars, and rouse 
The wide old wood from his majestic rest, 

Summoning from the innumerable boughs, 
The strange, deep harmonies that haunt his breast ; 

Pleasant shall be thy way, where meekly bows 
The shutting flower, and darkling waters pass, 
And 'twixt the o'ershadowing branches and the grass. 

4. The faint, old man shall lean his silver head 

To feel thee ; thou shalt kiss the child asleep, 
And dry the moistened curls that overspread 

His temples, while his breathing grows more deep ; 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 389 

And they, who stand about the sick man's bed, 

Shall joy to listen to thy distant sweep, 
And softly part his curtains, to allow 
Thy visit, grateful to his burning brow. 

5. G-o ; but the circle of eternal change, 

That is the life of nature, shall restore, 
With sounds and scents from all thy mighty range, 

Thee to thy birthplace of the deep once more ; 
Sweet odors in the sea-air, sweet and strange, 

Shall tell the homesick mariner of the shore ; 
And, list'ning to thy murmur, he shall deem 
He hears the rustling leaf, and running stream. 



LESSON CLIII. 

THE INDIAN HUNTER. ELIZA COOK. 

1. Oh ! why does the white man follow my path, 

Like the hound on the tiger's track ? 
Does the flush on my dark cheek waken his wrath, 
Does he covet the bow at my back ? 

2. He has rivers and seas where the billows and breeze 

Bear riches for him alone ; 
And the sons of the wood never plunge in the flood, 
Which the white man calls his own. 

3. Then why should he come to the streams where none 

But the red man dares to swim ? 
Why, why should he wrong the hunter ; one 
Who never did harm to him ? 



4. The Father above thought fit to give 
The white man corn and wine ; 



390 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

There a#e golden Belds where he may liw, 
But the forest shades are mine, 

5. The Eagle hath its place of rest ; 

The wild horse, when: to dwell; 
And the spirit that gave the bird its nest, 
Made me a home as welL 

6. Then back ! go back from the red man's track ; 

For the hunter's eyes grow dim, 
To find that the white man wrongs the one 
Who never did harm to him. 



LESSON CLIV. 

WESTMINSTER ABBEY. ANDREW DICKINSON'S FIRST VISIT TO 

EUROPE. 

1. Westminster Abbey is doubtless the most interesting spot 
in all England. As I entered the Poet's Corner by the south 
transept opposite the House of Lords, I lifted my hat with solemn 
reverence before passing the portal. Mine was a feeling of awful 
delight, with which " a stranger intermeddleth not." And this is 
Wi »t minster Abbey ! I have heard the fame thereof : can it be 
that I am permitted to look at it with my own eyes ? I could 
have wept that no congenial American spirit was with me. I 
stood on holy ground, and could hardly get courage to move from 
the spot. 

2. These emotions were not nervous affections : sensibility is 
not always sensitiveness. I surveyed the dusky arches above, and 
the venerable walls, covered with beautifully wrought tablets, 
while in the aisles by the long ranges of massy Gothic pillars stood 
numberless fine statues, representatives of the good and great. I 
dare not trust myself to speak of the sacred enthusiasm that made 
every chord in my inmost soul vibrate. 



COBB'S SPEAKEK. 391 

3. Immortal memories bloom in the Poet's Corner ! Here are 
the monuments of bards who delighted generations now in the 
dust, as they will the future living world with their matchless 
melodies. Their spirits are gone into immortality, and leave be- 
hind them immortal fragrance. Their works speak to the soul, as 
these marble effigies do to the eye. At that day when these vaults 
give up their trust, in the language of Addison, " we shall all be 
cotemporaries." 

4. All around are the forms of kings, statesmen, wits, poets, and 
philosophers. The epitaphs of these all but speaking forms are of 
thrilling interest to the lovers of lore. I visited the Abbey daily, 
lingering like a midnight ghost among these dormitories of the dead 
with a perpetual charm. 

5. The best interior view is by the entrance between the towers, 
where a scene of awful solemnity bursts upon the astonished be- 
holder. Hundreds of monuments are ranged in the long and mag- 
nificent aisles, and the noble range of pillars supporting the lofty 
roof, finally terminates by a sweep. On the arches of the pillars 
are galleries of double columns covering the side aisles and lighted 
by a middle range of windows. 

6. The Abbey is admirably lighted, being neither dusky nor 
dazzling. Nine chapels are enclosed in this spacious fabric, which 
is in the form of a cross three hundred and seventy-five feet long. 
The chapel of Henry VII., is the wonder of the world. A writer 
says, " It is the admiration of the universe : such perfection appears 
in every part ; so far exceeding human excellence, that it appears 
knit together by the fingers of angels pursuant to the direction of 
Omnipotence." Of course, I took a seat in the chair of state in 
which Queen Elizabeth was crowned. It has a couchant lion at 
each corner. There are two of these chairs which have been used 
at coronations since Edward I. 

7. Here lies Mary, Queen of Scots, who was beheaded at 
Fotheringay Castle, Northamptonshire, her remains having been 
privately removed from Peterborough Cathedral by James I., and 
entombed in a vault beneath her monument. Here rests under a 
lofty and magnificent monument, her proud rival Queen Elizabeth. 



392 COBB'S SPEAKK K. 

They who in life were in deadly Btrife, now peaceably repose, ride 
by ride, in palaces of death. Sere are the princes murdered in the 
Tower by Richard III. Their remains were exhumed sad buried 
in this chapel in the time of Charles II., after remaining buried 
under the Bl ly Tower one hundred and ninety-one years ! 

8. To attempt a full description would be useless; but if tin's 
humble sketch Bhould awaken in any reader a wi-h t<» see the 
Abbey, the writer will be well rewarded. The <-">i of Henry VIL's 

chapel alone was ..-<pial t" *_\ »,ooo! The verger took ua 

through the chapels of St Ben diet, St. Edmund, St. Nichol 
Paul, St. Erasmus, St [slip, and St John; bul bo raj. idly that it 

mpossible to scan the countless wonders with antiquarian 
niceness. My memorable \i-it to this renowned Abbey ><-<'ins to 
tlii- day less like a reality than some gur-vuih midsummer d 

9. T<» view Westminster Abbey on utilitarian principles, or in 
reference to its adaptation to modern convenience, is to stultify all 
judgment ami common sense. A spirit lik.- this would annihilate 
all 1 1 , . - glorious pictures at Versailles, and pull down every beauti- 

ful Bpire in tli- land. ( Hit upon i; | 

10. The og the chapels is only sixpence ; th< 

of the A1>1 >< y i- free. This charge is very proper, as you have one 
of the vergers, v. ho conductB twelve persons at a time, for an 
exponent Hie twopenny charge for entering Si. Paul's hai been 
lately abolished through the satirical influence of the London Punch. 

11. The Bermon on Sunday morning was from the words, 
" "When ye pray, Bay." AH the responses and Psalter were chanted ; 
and all who know any tiling of the sublime liturgy of the Church 
of England will agree, that when performed in a devotional spirit, 
it is like all heaven let down upon earth. The clear, liquid alto, 
melting with the deep-swelling base, produced a stream of un- 
earthly harmony ; how true to the poet ! 

12. In swarming cities vast, 
Assembled men to the deep organ join 

The long-resounding note, oft breaking clear 
At solemn pauses through the swelling base ; 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 893 

13. While the strange melody rolls through the long, sombre 
aisles and lofty arches, the stupendous fabric trembling with the 
thunder-tones of the noble organ. The " Amen," caught up by 
the choir at the end of every prayer, to me was more beautiful than 
tongue can tell ; rapturous, devotional ; the best type of the 
worship of a spiritual sphere. The day, the place, its wondrous 
historic records, the music, created overpowering emotions. 

14. Even now I seem to hear the voice of many waters, rising 
and fading ; like a multitude of the heavenly host departing into 
heaven, chanting "Hallelujah, for the Lord God omnipotent 
reigneth !" That soft, mellifluous, prolonged " Amen," so full of 
religion, has been lingering on my ear ever since ! 



LESSON CLV. 

THE RUINS OF CHI-CHEN. B. M. NORMAN. 

1. On arriving in the immediate vicinity of the ruins of the an- 
cient city of Chi-Chen, I was compelled to cut my way through an 
almost impenetrable thicket of underbrush, interlaced and bound 
together with strong tendrils and vines. I was finally enabled to 
effect a passage ; and, in the course of a few hours, I found myself 
in the presence of the ruins. For five days did I wander up and 
down, among these crumbling monuments of a city which must 
have been one of the largest the world has ever seen. I beheld 
before me, for a circuit of many miles in diameter, the walls of 
palaces, temples, and pyramids, more or less dilapidated. 

2. The earth was strowed, as far as the eye could distinguish, 
with columns, some broken, and some nearly perfect, which seem 
to have been planted there by the genius of desolation, which pre- 
sided over this awful solitude. Amidst these solemn memorials 
of departed generations who have died and left no marks but these, 
there were no indications of animated existence, save from the bats, 
the lizards, and other reptiles, which now and then emerged from 

17* 



394 0OBB'S sim:.\ K BB. 

the crevices of the tottering walls and crumbli 
strowed upon the ground at their ban. 

3. No marks of human footsteps, do signs of piovium ri 
were discernible; ear is there good reason to bene ve that any per- 
son, whose testimony to the fact has been given to the world, had 
ever before broken tin which reigns over these sacred tombs 

of a departed civilization. As I looked about me, and indulged in 
reflections, 1 felt awed into perfect silence. To speak then, 
ha«l been profai 

■i. A revelation from Heaven could hardly have impressed dm more 

mdly with the solemnity of itB communication, than I was 

now impressed on finding myself the first, probably, of the pteseni 

generation ofdvibned men, walking the streets of this once mighty 

city, and amidst 

• 'Thine temple-, palaces, and piles stupendous, 
Of which the very ruins are tremendous." 

Y< r a long time I was bo I with the multitude of objects 

-which crowded opon my mind, that I could take no note of them 
in detail. 

5. It was Dot until some hours harl elapsed, that my curiosity 

;!hYiently under control to enable me to examine them with 
an) minuteness. Tin.- Indians, tor many leagues around, hearing 
of ray arrival, cam.- to fiat me daily, hut the object of my toil was 

quite beyond their comprehension. They watched ray every 
motion, occasionally looking up to each other with an air of un- 
1 astonishment Of the builders or occupants of these edi- 
fices, which were in ruins about them, they had not the slightest 
idea ; nor did the question seem ever to have occurred to them. 

6. After the most careful search, no traditions, nor superstitions, 
nor legends of any kind concerning these remains, could be dis- 
covered. Time and foreign oppression had paralyzed, among this 
unfortunate people, those faculties which have been ordained by 
the God of nations to transfer history into tradition. All com- 
munication with the past, here seems to have been cut off. Nor 
did any allusion to their ancestry, or to the former occupants of 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 395 

these mighty palaces and monumental temples, produce the slightest 
thrill through the memories of even the oldest Indians in the 
vicinity. 

7. Defeated in my anticipations from this quarter, I addressed 
myself at once to the only course of procedure, which was likely to 
give me any solution of the solemn mystery ; to the ruins them- 
selves. My first examination was made at what I conceived to be 
the ruins of the Temple. These consist of four distinct walls, 
standing upon an elevated foundation of about sixteen feet. I 
entered at an opening at the western end, which I considered to be 
the main entrance ; and presumed, from the broken walls, ceilings, 
and pillars still standing, that the opposite end had been the loca- 
tion of the shrine or altar. The distance between these two ex- 
tremities, is four hundred and fifty feet. 

8. Of the entrance, or western end, about one half remains ; 
the interior showing broken rooms and ceilings, not entirely de- 
faced. The exterior is composed of large stones, beautifully hewn, 
and laid in fillet and moulding work. The opposite, or altar end, 
consists of similar walls, but has two sculptured pillars, much de- 
faced by the falling ruins. The walls are surrounded with masses 
of sculptured and hewn stones, broken columns, and ornaments 
which had fallen from the walls themselves, and which are cov- 
ered with a rank and luxuriant vegetation, and even with trees. 

9. The southern wall is in the best state of preservation, the 
highest part of which, yet standing, is about fifty feet ; where, also, 
the remains of rooms are still seen. The inner surface of these 
walls is quite perfect, finely finished with smooth stone, cut uniformly 
in squares of about two feet. About the centre of these walls, near 
the top on both sides, are stone rings, carved from immense blocks, 
and inserted in the wall by a long shaft, and projecting from it 
about four feet. They measure about four feet in diameter, and 
two in thickness ; the sides beautifully carved. 

10. Of the exterior of these walls, a sufficient portion still exists 
to show the fine and elaborate workmanship of the cornices and 
entablatures, though the latter are much broken and defaced. They 
are composed of immense blocks of stone, laid with the greatest 



396 COBB'S SPKAKKI", 

regularity and precision, the fronts of which arc sculptured, i 
senting flowers, borders, animals, and Indian figures, adorned with 
feather head dr< — s, and armed with bowa and arrows. 

11. A few rods -<>uth <■(' this Temple is tin- Pyramid, a majes- 
tic pile, measuring at its base about ti\«- hundred and fifty feet 
The angles and -id-- were beautifully laid with stones of an im- 
mense size, gradually lessening a- the work approached the sum- 
mit or platform. Ob the easl and north -id.- an- fligh 

stone steps, thirty feet wide at the base, and narrowing as they 
ascend. The bases were piled up with ruins, and overgrown with 
rank grass and vines; and. it was only after great labor that. I 
was enabled t<> reach the Bide facing the east 

12. Here were found tn a of enormous size, partly 
buried in tin' ruin-. They were plainly carved, representing some 
monster with wide-extended jaw-, with rows of teeth, and a pro- 
truding tongue. These stones were evidently tin* finish to tin: 
base of the iteps. 1 ascended the fallen and broken steps, through 
bushes and trees, with which they were partly covered, to the 
summit, one hundred feet Here was a terrace or platform, in 
the centre of which is a square building, one hundred and seventy 
feel at it- base, and twenty feet high. The exterior of the build- 
ing had been built of tine hewn and uniform blocks of stone, with 
entablatures of superior order, and» projecting cornices. 

13. I could find no access to the top but by the pillars, and by 
cutting steps in the stone and mortar of the broken edges, and by 
the aid of bushes, I reached the summit. I found it perfectly level, 
the whole covered with a deep soil, in which trees and grass were 
growing in profusion. From this height was presented a mag- 
nificent view of all the ruins, and the vast plain around them. 

14. Unlike most of the Egyptian pyramids, whose 

" Primeval race had run, ere antiquity had begun ;" 

this Pyramid does not culminate at the top. The solidity of its 
structure, the harmony and grandeur of its architecture, must im- 
press every one with an exalted idea of the mechanical skill, and the 
numbers of those, by whom it was constructed ; and, like those in 



COBB'S SPEAKKE. 397 

Egypt, so long as it stands, it must remain a monumental protest 
of an oppressed people, against the ill-directed ambition and tyr- 
anny of those rulers, by whose command it was built. 



LESSON CLVL 

THE STAR OF BETHLEHEM. H. K. WHITE. 

1. When marshalled on the nightly plain, 

The glittering host bestud the sky ; 
One star alone, of all the train, 

Can fix the sinner's wandering eye. 

2. Hark ! hark ! to God the chorus breaks, 

From every host ; from every gem ; 
But one alone, the Savior speaks, 
It is the Star of Bethlehem. 

3. Once, on the raging seas I rode ; 

The storm was loud, the night was dark, 
The ocean yawned, and rudely blowed 
The wind that tossed my foundering bark. 

4. Deep horror then my vitals froze, 

Death-struck, I ceased the tide to stem ; 
When suddenly a star arose, 
It was the Star of Bethlehem. 

5. It was my guide, my light, my all, 

It bade my dark foreboding cease ; 
And through the storm and danger's thrall, 
It led me to the port of peace. 

6. Now, safely moored, my perils o'er, 

I '11 sing, first in night's diadem, 
For ever, and for ever more, 

The Star, the Star of Bethlehem ! 



398 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

LESSON CLVII. 

COOKING OX MOUNT YKSl.VIl S. HEADLEY's LETTERS FROM ITALY. 

1. As I sat on the edge of the crater, awed by the spectacle 
before me, our guide approached with some eatables, and two 
eggs which bad been cooked in 1 1 * * * steam issuing from one of the 
apertures we had passed. My friend Bal down very deliberately 

to eat his. I took mine in my hand mechanically, but was too 
much absorbed in the actions of the sullen monster below in.; 
to eat. 

2. Suddenly there was an explosion, louder and more terrible than 

any that had preceded it, hurling a larger and more angry m.t — 

into tin- air. My hand involuntarily closed tightly o\<-r the egg f 
and I was recalled to my senses by my friend calling out very de- 
liberately at my feet to know what 1 was doing. I looked down, 
and there he sat quietly taking the shell from his egg, while mine 
was running a miniature volcano over his back and shoulders. 

3. I opened my hand, and there lay the crushed shell, while the 
contents were fast spreading over my friend's broadcloth. I laughed 
outright, rude, indeed, as it was. So much for the imagination 
you have so often scolded me about. I had lost my egg, while 
my friend, who took things more coolly, enjoyed not only the eat- 
ing of his, but the consciousness of having eaten an egg boiled in 
the steam of Vesuvius. 



LESSON CLVIII. 

TO YOUNG STUDENTS. MRS. E. C. EMBURY. 

1. Toil on, young student; thine is not 
The conqueror's laurel crown, 
No blood is on the shining leaf 
That wreathes thy bright renown. 



COBB'S SPEAKEE. 399 

2. Toil on ; beneath no flower-decked mead 

Lies hidden golden ore ; 
And thou must delve Time's deepest caves 
To gather classic lore. 

3. Thou seest not yet Life's many paths, 

With dangers ever rife ; 
Thou hear'st not yet the battle's din 
Rise from its field of strife. 

4. But from the armory of Truth 

Choose out thy weapons keen 
And keep them bright with daily toil 
Till comes thy trial-scene. 

5. As thou hast used thy gifts of youth, 

So wilt thou be repaid, 
When the white blossoms of the grave 
Are on thy temples laid. 



LESSON CLIX. 



THE HANDSOME AND DEFORMED LEG J SHOWING- THE UNHAPPI- 

NESS AND GREAT EVIL OF A FAULT-FINDING DISPOSITION. DR. 

FRANKLIN. 

1. There are two sorts of people in the world, who, with equal 
degrees of health and wealth in the world, and the other comforts 
of life, become the one happy, the other miserable. This arises 
very much from the different views in which they consider things, 
persons, and events ; and the effect of those different views upon 
their own minds. 

2. In whatever situation men can be placed, they may find con- 
veniences and inconveniences ; in whatever company, they may find 



400 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

persons and conversation more or Less pleasing ; at whatever table, 
they may meet with meats and drinki of better and irorte taste, 
dishes better and worse dressed; in whatever climate, they will find 
good and bad weather; under whatever government, they may find 
and bad laws, and good and bad administration of those 
laws; in whatever poem, or work of genius, they may »■<; faults 
and beauties; in almost every nice, and everj person, they may 
discover fine features and defects, good and bad qualiti 

3. Under these circumstances, the two Borta of people, al 
mentioned, fii their attentioa ; those who are disposed to be happy, 
on the conveniences of things, the pleasanl parts of conversation, 
the well-dressed dishes, the goodness of the wines, the fine weather, 
a.-.-., and enjoy all with cheerfulness. Those who are to be un- 
happy, Bpeak and think only of the contraries. 

4. Hence, they are continually discontented themselves, and by 
their remarks, sour the pleasures of society; offend personally 
many people, and make themselves every where disagreeable. It' 
this turn of mind was founded in nature, Buch unhappy persons 
would be the more to be pitied. But as the disposition to criti- 
cise, and be disgusted, is, perhaps, taken up originally by imi- 
tation, and is, unawares, grown into a habit, which, though at 
present strong, may nevertheless be cured, when those who have 
it are convinced of its bad effects on their felicity ; I hope this 
little admonition may be of service to them, and put them on 
changing a habit, which, though in the exercise it is chiefly an act 
of imagination, yet has serious consequences in life, as it brings on 
real grief and misfortunes. 

5. For, as many are offended by, and nobody loves this sort of 
people ; no one shows them more than the most common civility 
and respect, and scarcely that ; and, this frequently puts them out 
of humor, and draws them into disputes and contentions. If they 
aim at obtaining some advantage in rank or fortune, nobody wishes 
them success, or will stir a step, or speak a word to favor their 
pretensions. If they incur public censure or disgrace, no one will 
defend or excuse, and many join to aggravate their miscon- 
duct, and render them completely odious. 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 401 

6. If these people will not change this bad habit, and conde- 
scend to be pleased with what is pleasing, without fretting them- 
selves and others about the contraries, it is good for others to avoid 
an acquaintance with them ; which is always disagreeable, and 
sometimes very inconvenient, especially when one finds one's self 
entangled in their quarrels. 

7. An old philosophical friend of mine was grown from experi 
ence, very cautious in this particular, and carefully avoided any 
intimacy with such people. He had, like other philosophers, a 
thermometer to show him the heat of the weather ; and a barom- 
eter to mark when it was likely to prove good or bad ; but there 
being no instrument invented to discover, at first sight, this 
unpleasing disposition in a person, he, for that purpose, made use 
of his legs ; one of which was remarkably handsome, the other, 
by some accident, crooked, and deformed. If a stranger, at the 
first interview, regarded his ugly leg more than his handsome one, 
he doubted him. 

8. If he spoke of it, and took no notice of the handsome leg, 
that was sufficient to determine my philosopher to have no farther 
acquaintance with him. Every one has not this two-legged instru- 
ment ; but every one, with a little attention, may observe signs of 
that carping, fault-finding disposition, and take the same resolution 
of avoiding the acquaintance off those infected with it. I therefore 
advise those critical, querulous, discontented, unhappy people, that 
if they wish to be respected and beloved by others, and happy in 
themselves, they should leave off looking at the ugly leg. 



LESSON CLX. 

MY MOTHER'S ROOM. SOUTHERN CHURCHMAN. 

1. It is said that the late President Harrison had a religious 
education from a pious mother. During his recent visit to the 
place of his nativity, on James' river, Virginia, he delighted to 



402 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

show his friends his mother's room, the closet to which she used to 
retire for her devotions, the rery corner where she used to >it lead- 
ing her bible, and where she taught him in his childhood to pray 
to God on his knees. The impressions then; made on his young 
mind never were effaced, and for the last twenty years lie i 
retired to rest without leading a portion of the Holy Scripture*. 

2. His pastor, in remarks on his death, states that the d 
part of his inaugural address was written in that room. u l deem 
the present occasion," says the President, H sufficiently important 
and Bolemn to justify me in expressing to my fellow-citia 
profound reverence for the Christian religion, and a thorough con- 
viction, that sound morals, religious liberty, and a JUS* seti>e of re- 
ligious responsibility, are essentially connected with all true and 
lasting happiness." 

3. These words were written amidst the hallowed associations 
and inspiring recollections of a M mother's room." Was not this a 
glorious triumph of nursery piety ; a brilliant trophy of parental 
fidelity in "bringing up a child in the nurture and admonition of 
the Lord." 



LESSON CLXI. 

DUTY OF EDUCATING THE POOR. GREENWOOD. 

[Extract from a Sermon delivered on the twenty-fifth Anniversary of 
the Boston Female Asylum.] 

1. Even at this enlightened day, it is not entirely a superfluous 
task to vindicate the claims of the offspring of the poor, of the 
poorest, of the vilest, to that mental cultivation, which it is in the 
power of every community to bestow. The old notion is not yet 
stowed away among the forgotten rubbish of old times, that those 
who were born to labor and servitude, and that the less they knew, 
the better they would obey ; and that the only instruction which 
was necessary or safe for them, was that which would teach them 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 



403 



to move like automatons, precisely as those above them pulled the 
strings. 

2. I say, we still hear this principle asserted, though perhaps in 
more guarded and indefinite language ; and a more selfish, per- 
nicious, disgraceful principle, in whatever terms it may be muffled 
up, never insulted human nature, nor degraded human society. It 
is the leading principle of despotism, the worst feature of aristocracy, 
and a profane contradiction of that indubitable Word, which has 
pronounced all men to be brethren ; and, in every thing which re- 
lates to their common nature, equal. 

3. I have said, that even the children of the vilest and lowest 
portion of the community, shared in the general right to the ad- 
vantages of education. Their claim possesses a peculiar title to our 
consideration. Some have spoken, as if such were beyond or 
beneath our assistance, and would bring contamination from their 
birthplace. Their lot is in the region of irreclaimable wickedness, 
it is said ; and as their parents are, so are they destined to become. 
Destined ! and so they are, if you will not save them. 

4. They are destined, and for ever chained down, to a state of 
moral loathsomeness, in which degradation seems to be swallowed 
with the food, and vice breathed in with the air. And shall they 
stay in such a pit of darkness ? Is not their situation the strongest 
possible appeal which can be made to your pity, and your gener- 
osity, and your sense of justice, and your love of good? 

5. Does it not call on you, most loudly and imperatively, to 
pluck these brands from the burning, ere they have been scorched 
too deeply and darkly by the flame \ Nothing is more probable 
than that such children may be preserved to virtue by a timely 
interference ; nothing is more certain than that they will be lost if 
they remain. I know of no case which promises such ample 
success and reward to the spirited efforts of benevolence, as this. 

6. Vice may be cut off, in a great measure, of her natural in- 
crease, by the adoption of her offspring into the family of virtue ; 
and, though it is true that the empire of guilt receives constant 
emigrations and fresh accessions of strength, from all the regions 
of society, yet it is equally as true, that they whose only crime it 



404 COBB'S SPEAK 10 K. 

La that they were born within its confines, may be snatched away 
ami taught another allegiance, before they have miliar 

with its language, its customs, and its corruptions, and have rowed 
a dreadful fidelity to its laws. 

1. 1 deny not that a nation may become powerful, victorious, 

renowmd, wealthy, and lull of great men, even though it should 

i the education of tin- humbler classes of its population ; but 

J do 'l«ny. that it can < \. r become a happy or a truly prosperous 

nation, till all its children arc taught of the Lord. 

8. To say nothing of the despotism of the East, look at the 
kingdoms of Europe, with their battles, and their alliance, and 
their pompous and gaudy ceremonies, and their imposing cl 

of high titles and celebrated names; and, after this showy phan- 
tasmagoria has passed away, mark the condition of the majority; 
observe their superstition, their slavishness, their sensual enjoy- 
ments, their limited range of thought, their almost brutalized exist- 
ence ; mark this, and Bay whether a heavenly peace is among 
them. 

9. Alas! they know not the things which belong to their peace, 
nor are their nil. is desirous that they should know, but rather 
prefer that they should live on in submissive ignorance, that they 
may be at all times ready to swell the trains of their masters' pride, 
and be sacrificed by hecatombs to their masters' ambition. Far 
different were the views of those gifted patriarchs who founded a 
new empire here. They were determined that all their children 
should be taught of the Lord; and, side by Bide, with the humble 
dwellings which sheltered their heads from the storms of a strange 
world, arose the school-house and the house of God. 

10. And ever after, the result has been peace, great, unexampled 
peace ; peace to the few, who gradually encroached on the primeval 
forests of the land; and peace to the millions, who have now 
spread themselves abroad in it from border to border. In the 
strength and calm resolution of that peace, they stood up once, and 
shook themselves free from the rusted fetters of the world ; and, in 
the beauty and dignity of that peace, they stand up now, self- 
governed, orderly, and independent, a wonder to the nations. 



COBB'S SPEAKEK. 



405 



11. If a stranger should inquire of me the principal cause and 
source of this greatness of my country, would I bid him look on the 
ocean widely loaded with our merchandise, and proudly ranged by 
our navy ; or on the lands where it is girdled by roads, and scored 
by canals, and burdened with the produce of our industry and in- 
genuity ? Would I bid him look on these things as the springs 
of our prosperity ? Indeed, I would not. Nor would I show him 
our colleges and literary institutions, for he can see nobler ones 
elsewhere. 

12. I would pass all these by, and would lead him out by some 
winding highway among the hills and woods ; and when the cul- 
tivated spots, grew small and infrequent, and the houses became 
few and scattered, and a state of primitive nature seemed to be 
immediately before us, would stop in some sequestered spot, and, 
directed by a steady hum, like that of bees, I would point out to 
him a lowly building, hardly better than a shed, but full of bloom- 
ing, happy children, collected together from the remote and unseen 
farmhouses, conning over their various tasks ; or, reading, with a 
roice of reverential monotony, a portion of the Word of God. 

13. I would bid him note, that even here, in the midst of 
poverty and sterility, was a specimen of the thousand nurseries in 
which all our children are taught of the Lord, and formed, some 
to legislate for the land, and all to understand its constitution and 
laws, to maintain their unspotted birthright, and contribute to the 
great aggregate of the intelligence, the morality, the power and 
peace, of this mighty commonwealth. 



LESSON CLXII. 

OF PRUDENCE IN REPROVING. BIBLE. 



1. My brethren, be not many masters, knowing that we shall 
receive the greater condemnation. 

For in many things we offend all. If any man offend not in 



406 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

word, tho same is a perfect man, and able also to bridle the whole 
body. 

2. Behold, we put. bitfl in tin- bones' mouths, that they may 
obey ns; and we turn about their whole body. 

3. Behold also the ships, which, though they be so great, and 
are driven of fierce wind-, yet are they turned about with a rery 
small helm, whithersoever the governor listeth. 

4. Even bo the tongue is a little member, and boasteth 
things. Behold, bow great a matter a little fire kindleth ! 

And the tongue is a fire, a world of iniquity: so is the tongue 
among oar members, thai itdefileth the whole body, and aetteth 
on fire the course of nature; and it is >. t on fire ofhelL 

5. For every kind of beasts, and of birds, and of serpents, and 

of things in the Sea, m tamed, and hath 1 n tamed of man- 
kind : 

But the tongue can no man tame; it la an unruly evil, full of 
deadly poison. 

6. Therewith Mesa we ( ">d, even the Father; and therewith 
curse we men, which are made after the .similitude of God. 

Out of the same mouth proceedeth blessing and cursing. My 
brethren, these things ought not so to be. 

7. Doth a fountain send forth at the same place sweet water 
and bitter ? 

Can the fig-tree, my brethren, bear olive-berries i either a vine, 
figs ? So can no fountain both yield salt water and fresh. 

8. Who is a wise man and endued with knowledge among 
you ? let him show out of a good conversation his works with 
meekness of wisdom. 

But if ye have bitter envying and strife in your hearts, glory 
not, and lie not against the truth. 

9. This wisdom descendeth not from above, but is earthly, sen- 
sual, devilish. 

For where envying and strife is, there is confusion and every 
evil work. 

10. But the wisdom that is from above is first pure, then peace- 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 407 

able, gentle, and easy to be entreated, full of mercy and good fruits, 
without partiality, and without hypocrisy. 

And the fruit of righteousness is sown in peace of them that 
make peace. 



LESSON CLXIII. 



ROMANCE OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. HORACE GREELJC 

1. We are in no danger of estimating too highly the extiv - 
dinary character of the age in which our lot has been cast, and <. £ 
the influences by which we are surrounded. The Present is the 
proper theme of poetry, the fitting scene of romance. Whoever 
shall faintly realize the mighty events, the stirring impulses, the 
lofty character of our times, is in no danger of passing through 
life grovelling and unobservant as the dull beast that crops the 
thistles by the way-side. 

2. The Past has its lessons, doubtless, and well is it for those 
who master and heed them ; but were it otherwise, the Present 
has themes enough of ennobling interest to employ all our facul- 
ties, to engross all our thoughts ; save as they should contemplate 
the still grander, vaster Hereafter. 

3. Do they talk to us of Grecian or Roman heroism ? They 
say well ; but Genius died not with Greece ; and Heroism has 
scarcely a recorded achievement which our own age could not 
parallel. What momentary deed of reckless valor can compare 
with the life-long self-devotion of the Missionary, in some far clus- 
ter of Indian lodges, or Tartary huts, cut off from society, from 
sympathy, and from earthly hope ? How easy, how common, to 
dare death with Alexander ! How rare to live nobly as Wash- 
ington, and feel no ambition but that of doing good ! 

4. Take the efforts for the elevation of the African race in our 
day, ill-directed as some of them appear, and yet Antiquity might 
well be challenged to produce any thing, out of the sphere of Sa- 



408 COBB'S M'KAKKK. 

civ.l History, half so heroic and divine. Lei us then rate little 
time in looking back to earlier ages for high 
thai stir the blood Lei us wrf Idly imagine that the OH World 
unbosoms scenes and memorials dearer to the lover of Truth, of 
Freedom, and of Man, than those of our own clime, Let M repel 
alike the braggart's vain-glory and the self-dispai of de- 

generacy; "vt cherish the faith that n<> where are than purer 
Bides, more inspiring recollections or magninceat landscape*, than 
in which our own green land rejoi 

5. Those daily acts, those common impulses, which, viewed in- 
dividually and with microscopic 0* with leem insig- 

•:t and trifling, take a different aspect, if regarded in a more 
catholic spirit Those myriad hammers, which, impelled by 
brawny arms, are ringing out their rude melody day by day, and 
contributing to the comfort and sustenance of man. those ft • 
hardy fisheries, now fh»mng the whale on tip- other side of the 
globe, to give light to tin- city mansion and celerity to the wheels 
of the village factory, those armies of trap] red through the 

Mountains, each in stealthy solitude pursuing 
bis deadly trad'-, whenc • dames of London and belles of Jvkin alike 
shall borrow warmth and comeliness, l--t us contemplate th< 
their Beveral classes, unmindful of the leagues of wood, or plain, or 
water, which chance to divide them, 

6. Readily enough do we perceive and acknowledge the gran- 
deur of the great army which some chief or d 

draw- out to feed his vanity by display, or his ambition by car- 
nage ; but the larger and nobler armies whose weapons are the 
mattock and the spade, who overspread the hills and line the val- 
leys, until beneath their rugged skill and persevering effort, a high- 
way of Commerce is opened where late the panther leaped, the 
deer disported : is not theirs a nobler spectacle, more worthy of 
the orator's apostrophe, the poet's song ? 

7. Let us look boldly, broadly out on Nature's wide domain. 
Let us note the irregular yet persistent advance of the pioneers of 
civilization, the forest conquerors, before whose lusty strokes and 
sharp blades the century-crowned wood-monarchs, rank after rank, 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 409 

come crashing to the earth. From age to age have they kept 
apart the soil and sunshine, as they shall do no longer. 

8. Onward, still onward, pours the army of axe-men, and still 
before them bow their stubborn foes. But yesterday, their ad- 
vance was checked by the Ohio : to-day it crossed the Missouri, 
the Kansas, and is fast on the heels of the flying buffalo. In the 
eye of a true discernment, what host of Xerxes or Cesar, of Fred- 
erick or Napoleon, ever equalled this in majesty, in greatness of 
conquest, or in true glory ? 

9. The mastery of man over Nature ; this is an inspiring truth, 
which we must not suffer, from its familiarity, to lose its force. By 
the might of his intellect, Man has not merely made the elephant 
his drudge, the lion his diversion, the whale his magazine, but 
even the subtlest and most terrible of the elements is made the 
submissive instrument of his will. He turns aside, or garners up 
the lightning ; the rivers toil in his workshops ; the tides of ocean 
bear his burdens ; the hurricane rages for his use and profit. Fire 
and water struggle for mastery, that he may be whisked over hill 
and valley with th e celerity of the sunbeam. 

10. The stillness of the forest midnight is broken by the snort- 
ing of the Iron Horse, as he drags the long train from lakes to 
ocean with a slave's docility, a giant's strength. Up the long hill 
he labors, over the deep glen he skims, the tops of the tall trees 
swaying around and below his narrow path. His sharp, quick 
breathing bespeaks his impetuous progress ; a stream of fire reflects 
its course. On dashes the restless, tireless steed, and the morrow's 
sun shall find him at rest in some far mart of commerce, and the 
partakers of his wizard journey scattered to their vocations of trade 
or pleasure, unthinking of their night's adventure. What had old 
Romance wherewith to match the every-day realities of the Nine- 
teenth Century ? 

18 



410 COBB'S B im;a C kk. 

LESSOH <LXI\. 

DUTZBB OF PARENTS. — J. AJUIOTT. 

1. Why are cases so frequent in which the children of nrl 
parents grow up vicious and abandoned are many nice 
and delicate adjustments accessary to Becure the highest and bett 
results in the education of a child; but the principles necessary for 
tolerable success must be leu and simple. There are two which 
we wish we had a roice loud enough to thunder in the ea 
every parent in the country: the breach of one or the other of 
which will explain almost every case of gross failure on the part 
of virtuous parents which we have ever known. They are these: 

1. Keep pour children from bad company. 

2. Make them obey. 

2. Habits of insubordination at home, and the company of bad 
boys abroad, are the two great Bources of evil, which and© so much 
of what moral and religious instruction might otherwise effect 
What folly to think that a boy can play with the profane, impure, 

passionate boys which herd in the Btreets as -lays in the week, 
and haw the Btains ail wiped away by beiug compelled to team 
his Sunday School lesson on the seventh ; or, that children uho 
make the kitchen or the nursery, scenes of riot and noise from the 
age of three to eight years, will be prepared for any thing ia after 
life but to carry the spirit of insubordination and riot wherever they 
may go. 

3. No ! children must be taken care of. They must be gov- 
erned at home, and kept from contaminating influences abroad, or 
they are ruined. If parents ask, how shall we make our children 
obey ? We answer, In the easiest and most pleasant way you can ; 
but, at all events, make them obey. If you ask, How shall we keep 
our boys from bad company ? 

4. We answer, too, In the easiest and most pleasant way you 
possibly can ; but, at all events, if in the city, keep them out of the 
street ; and, wherever you are, keep them from bad company. The 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 411 

alternative, it seems to us, is as clear and decided as any circum- 
stances ever made up for man ; you must govern your children, 
and keep them away from the contamination of vice ; or, you 
must expect to spend your old age in mourning over the ruins of 
your family. 



LESSON CLXV. 

THE FOURTEENTH CONGRESS. R. H. WILDE. 

1. I had the honor to be a member of the fourteenth Congress. 

o 

It was an honor then. What it is now, I shall not say. It is 
what the twenty-second Congress have been pleased to make it. 
I have neither time, nor strength, nor ability, to speak of the legis- 
lators of that day, as they deserve ; nor is this a fit occasion. Yet 
the coldest or most careless nature, can not recur to such associates, 
without some touch of generous feeling, which, in quicker spirits, 
would kindle into high and almost holy enthusiasm. 

2. Pre-eminent, among them, was a gentleman of South Caro- 
lina, (Lowndes,) now no more, the purest, the calmest, the most 
philosophical of our country's modern statesmen : one, no less re- 
markable for gentleness of manners and kindness of heart, than 
for the passionless, unclouded intellect, which rendered him deserv- 
ing of the praise, if ever man deserved it, of merely standing by, 
and letting reason argue for him. 

3. The true patriot, incapable of all selfish ambition, who 
shunned office and distinction, yet served his country faithfully, 
because he loved her : he, I mean, who consecrated, by his ex- 
ample, the noble precept, so entirely his own, that the first station 
in a republic, was neither to be sought after nor declined ; a sen- 
timent so just and so happily expressed, that it continues to be re- 
peated, because it can not be improved. 

4. There was, also, a gentleman from Maryland, (Pinckney,) 
whose ashes now slumber in your cemetery. It is not long since 
I stood by his tomb, and recalled him, as he was then, in all the 



412 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

pride and power of his genius. Among the first of his country- 
men and cotemporaries, as b jurist and statesman, first m id ora- 
tor, lie was, if not truly eloquent, the prince of rhetoricians. 

5. Nor did the soundness of his logic suffer any thing, by a 
comparison with the richness and classical purity of the language, 
in which he copiously poured forth those figurative illustrations of 
his argument, which enforced, while they adorned it. Bui Let 
others pronounce his eulogy, I must not. I feel as if his mighty 
spirit still haunted t!, of its triumphs, and when I dared to 

wrong them, indignantly rebuked me. These Dames have become 
historical. Then- were others, of whom it is more difficult to speak, 
because yet within the reach of praise or envy. 

G. For on<' who was, or aspired to be, a politician, it would be 
prudent, perhaps wise, to avoid all mention of these men. Their 
acts, their words, their thoughts, their very looks, have become 
subjects of party controversy. But he whose ambition is of a 
higher or lower order, has no such need of reserve. Talent is of 
no party, exclusively ; nor is justice. Among them, but not of 
them, in the fearful and solitary sublimity of genius, stood a gen- 
tleman from Virginia, (Randolph,) whom it were superfluous to 
designate, whose speeches were universally read ; whose satire was 
universally feared. 

1. Upon whose accents, did this habitually listless and unlisten- 
ing House hang, so frequently, with rapt attention ? Whose fame 
was identified with that body for so long a period ? Who was a 
more dexterous debater? a riper scholar? better versed in the 
politics of our own country ? Or deeper read in the history of others ? 
Above all, who was more thoroughly imbued with the idiom of 
the English language ? more completely master of its strength, 
and beauty, and delicacy ? or more capable of breathing thoughts 
of flame, in words of magic, and of silver ? 

8. There was, also, a son of South Carolina, (Calhoun,) still in 
the service of the republic, then, undoubtedly, the most influential 
member of this house. With a genius eminently metaphysical, 
he applied to politics his habits of analysis, abstraction, and con- 
densation, and thus gave to the problems of government, some- 






COBB'S SPEAKEK. 413 

thing of that grandeur, which the higher mathematics have bor- 
rowed from astronomy. 

9. The wings of his mind were rapid, but capricious, and there 
were times, when the light which flashed from them as they passed, 
glanced like a mirror in the sun, only to dazzle the beholder. 
Engrossed with his subject, careless of his words, his loftiest nights 
of eloquence were sometimes followed by colloquial or provincial 
barbarisms. But, though often incorrect, he was always fascina- 
ting. Language, with him, was merely the scaffolding of thought, 
employed to raise a dome, which, like Angelo's, he suspended in 
the heavens. 

10. It is equally impossible to forget or to omit, a gentleman 
from Kentucky, (Clay,) whom party has since made the fruitful 
topic of unmeasured panegyric and detraction. Of sanguine tem- 
perament and impetuous character, his declamation was impassioned, 
his retorts acrimonious. Deficient in refinement, rather than in 
strength, his style was less elegant and correct, than animated and 
impressive. But it swept away your feelings with it, like a moun- 
tain torrent, and the force of the stream left you little leisure to 
remark upon its clearness. 

11. His estimate of human nature was, probably, not very high. 
Unhappily, it is, perhaps, more likely to have been lowered, than 
raised, by his subsequent experience. Yet then, and ever since, 
except when that imprudence, so natural to genius, prevailed over 
his better judgment, he adopted a lofty tone of sentiment, whether 
he spoke of measures or of men, of friend or adversary. On 
many occasions, he was noble and captivating. One, I can never 
forget. It was the fine burst of indignant eloquence, with which 
he replied to the taunting question, " What have we gained by the 
war- ?" 

12. Nor may I pass over in silence a representative from New 
Hampshire, (Webster,) who has almost obliterated all memory of 
that distinction, by the superior fame he has attained as a senator 
from Massachusetts. Though then but in the bud of his political 
life, and hardly conscious, perhaps, of his own extraordinary powers, 
he gave promise of the greatness he has since achieved. 



414 COBB'S SPEAKKi:. 

13. The same vigor of though! ; the same fanes of tspneaosi; 
Hi.' Bhort sentences; the calm, cold, collected maimer; the air of 
Bolemn dignity : the deep, sepulchral, unimpaauoned voice ; all 
have been developed only, ool changed, even to the intense bitter- 
er his frigid irony. The piercing coldness of his ■■raaam 
was, indeed, peculiar to aim ; they seemed to be emanations from 
the spirit of the icy "rein. Nothing could bo at once so novel 
and so powerful ; it \su.s frozen mercury, becoming as caustic as 
red-hot iron. 



LESSON CLXVI. 

THE LAST MAN. CAMPBELL. 



1. All worldly shapes shall melt in gloom, 

The Sun himself must die, 
Before this mortal shall assume 

Its immortality ! 
I saw a vision in my sleep, 
That gave my spirit strength to sweep 

Adown the gulf of time ! 
I saw the last of human mould, 
That shall creation's death behold 

As Adam saw her prime ! 

2. The sun's eye had a sickly glare, 

The earth with age was wan ; 
The skeletons of nations were 

Around that lonely man ! 
Some had expired in fight ; the brands 
Still rusted in their bony hands, 

In plague and famine some. 
Earth's cities had no sound or tread, 
And ships were drifting with the dead, 

To shores where all was dumb ! 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 

Yet, prophet-like, that lone one stood, 

With dauntless words and high, 
That shook the sear leaves from the wood, 

As if a storm passed by ; 
Saying, " We are twins in death, proud Sun ; 
Thy face is cold, thy race is run, 

'Tis mercy bids thee go ; 
For thou, ten thousand thousand years, 
Hast seen the tide of human tears, 

That shall no longer flow. 

" This spirit shall return to Him 

That gave its heavenly spark ; 
Yet think not, Sun, it shall be dim, 

When thou thyself art dark ! 
No ! it shall live again, and shine 
In bliss unknown to beams of thine, 

By Him recalled to breath, 
Who captive led captivity, 
Who robbed the grave of victory, 

And took the sting: from death ! 



415 






5. " Go, Sun, while mercy holds me up 

On Nature's awful waste, 
To drink this last and bitter cup 

Of grief that man shall taste. 
Go, tell" that night that hides thy face, 
Thou saw'st the last of Adam's race, 

On Earth's sepulchral clod, 
The darkening universe defy 
To quench his immortality, 

Or shake his trust in God !" 



416 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

LESSOM CL2 VII. 

ON B0NE8TY. — LETTER CO A son. — D. D. T. L. 

1. I need not explain this term, as all intelligent boys uuder- 
stand its meaning. 1 ardently desire tli.a you Bhonld excel in this 
trait of character, because of its excellence and importance. My 
anxiety on the Bubject is increased by the fact that I have known 
many young persons, who at one time bid fair to become respectable 
and useful men, to bring disgrace upon their characters, and afflic- 
tion on their families, by a single ad of dishonesty. 

2. I presume you have often read a. •counts in the newspapi 
boys raised in respectable families, who, on becoming clerks in 
stores, have been detected in pilfering their employers' money, and 
discharged from employment therefor, or tried before the courts, 
thus blasting their good name lor all future time. You know i; 
would agonize the hearts of your mother and myself to see your 
character stained by an act of this kind. 

3. I never could, however, fully concur with Mr. Pope in his 
celebrated line, 

"An honest man's the noblest -work of God." 

In my judgment, a person distinguished for Christian faith and 
- t ncbli r production, because these sublime virtues necessarily 
include honesty. 

4. Nevertheless, I consider it a more difficult task to be strictly up- 
right, from proper motives, than is generally supposed. It is a task 
that will demand much self-denial and strength of principle, as our 
natural dispositions are exceedingly covetous, and temptations to 
overreaching very numerous. It does not suffice to be honest in 
large affairs, and when people are looking upon us, and to take 
advantage in little things, and when we think no one sees us. 

5. God always sees, and he requires us to be just in the smallest 
matters, and on all occasions, and that too with a view to do his 
will ; not merely for our own advantage, the only reason, I fear, 
why many people are honest. The homely rhyme, 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 417 

" He that will steal a pin 
"Will steal a greater thing," 

teaches a truth that we should never forget. Honesty of this sort, 
which is the kind I hope you will practise, is not as often met with 
as many suppose. 

6. This virtue is largely rewarded, and dishonesty, especially 
when found out, is generally more or less punished by our fellow- 
men, which can not be said of all the other virtues and their 
opposites. The well known proverb, " Honesty is the best policy," 
is allowed to be true even by wicked people. You see then, my 
son, that besides the divine command, we have the powerful motive 
of interest to make us honest. 

7. The disgrace of being branded as a thief or a swindler by 
human society is so dreadful, that few persons, even for the sake 
of obtaining money, the usual motive to such crimes, would hazard 
the consequences of such conduct, but for the hope they entertain 
of not being found out. I would impress upon you the truth, that 
to ensure safety in the matter, you will need the aid of experimental 
religion. 

8. It is well known that many persons of good talents and 
education, who have stood high in society for a great many years, 
have, in an unfortunate hour, when urged by want or the love of 
gain, committed dishonest acts, such as forging or swindling, by 
which their characters and happiness have suffered shipwreck, and 
their families have been disgraced. 

9. Had such individuals, at any previous period, been told that 
there was danger of their engaging in such wickedness, they would 
have felt insulted, and, perhaps, have exclaimed in the language 
of Hazael, " But what ! is thy servant a dog, that he should do this 
great thing ?" 

10. You will, my son, to ensure success in this important par- 
ticular, have urgent occasion to repeat earnestly and frequently the 
admirable petition, " Lead me not into temptation," by which I 
suppose is meant, Suffer me not to be tempted, or deliver me when 
tempted. Without this help, I greatly fear that you will, in an 
unguarded hour, be led into acts of dishonesty, sure to be succeeded 

18* 



418 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

by loss of reputation and bitter remorse, as well as the frown and 
punishment of the Almighty. 

11. It lias b en often Btated, thai persona who have been for 
any considerable period of their early days pupils in the Sabbath 
School, have rarely, if ever, been detected in heinous crimes, This 
is, no doubt, the case; the oft-repeated and wholesome Scripture 
admonitions there furnished, being admirably calculated to inspire 
the minds of youth with proper dread of the evils resulting from 
Buch conduct, as web 1 as to fbrtirj them with correct principles on 
the subject This statement, I trust, will induce you to set a high 
value "ii the privilege you have Long enjoyed, of attending Sunday 
School, as well as to be diligent in your future attendance thereon. 



LESSON CLXVIII. 

ENCOUNTER WTTH AN' ECBBRRCh — HARPER'S NEW MONTHLY 
MAGAZINE 

1. For ten days we bad fine weather and light winds; but, a 
southerly gale Bprung up, and drove us to the northward, and I 
then found out what it was to be at sea. After the gale bad 

! a week, the wind came around from the northward, and 
bitter cold it was. We then stood on rather farther to the north 
than the usual track, I believe. 

2. It was night, and blowing fresh. The sky was overcast, and 
there was no moon, so that darkness was on the face of the deep ; 
not total darkness, it must be understood, for that is seldom known 
at sea. I was in the middle watch from midnight to four o'clock, 
and had been on deck about half an hour when the look-out for- 
ward sung out, " Ship ahead ; starboard; hard a starboard." 

3. These words made the second mate, who had the watch, 
jump into the weather rigging. "A ship," he exclaimed. "An 
iceberg it is rather, and; all hands wear ship," he shouted, in 
a tone that showed there was not a moment to lose. 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 419 

4. The watch sprang to the braces and bowlines, while the rest 
of the crew tumbled up from below, and the captain and other 
officers rushed out of their cabins ; the helm was kept up, and the 
yards swung around, and the ship's head turned towards the direc- 
tion whence we had come. The captain glanced his eye around, 
and then ordered the courses to be brailed up, and the maintopsail 
to be backed, so as to lay the ship to. 

5. I soon discovered the cause of these manoeuvres ; for before 
the ship had quite wore around, I perceived close to us a towering 
mass with a refulgent appearance, which the look-out man had 
taken for the white sails of a ship, but which proved in reality to 
be a vast iceberg, and attached to it, and extending a considerable 
distance to leeward, was a field or very extensive floe of ice, against 
which the ship would have run, had it not been discovered in time, 
and would in all probability instantly have gone down with every 
one on board. 

6. In consequence of the extreme darkness, it was dangerous to 
sail either way ; for it was impossible to say what other floes or 
smaller cakes of ice might be in the neighborhood, and we might 
probably be on them, before they could be seen. We, therefore, 
remained hove to. As it was, I could not see the floe till it was 
pointed out to me by one of the crew. 

7. When daylight broke the next morning, the dangerous posi- 
tion in which the ship was placed was seen. On every side of us 
appeared large floes of ice, with several icebergs floating, like moun- 
tains on a plain, among them ; while the only opening through 
which we could- escape was a narrow passage to the northeast, 
through which we must have come. What made our position the 
more perilous was, that the vast masses of ice were approaching 
nearer and nearer to each other, so that we had not a moment to 
lose, if we would effect our escape. 

8. As the light increased, we saw, at the distance of three miles 
to the westward, another ship in a far worse predicament than we 
were, inasmuch that she was completely surrounded by ice, though 
she still floated in a sort of basin. The wind held to the north- 
ward, so that we could stand clear out of the passage, should it re- 



420 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

main open long enough. She by this time had discovered her 
own perilous condition, as we perceived that she had hoisted a sig- 
nal of distress, and we heard the guns she was firing to call our 
attention to her; but regard to our own Bafety compelled as to 

disregard them till we had ourselves got clear of the ice. 

9. It was very dreadful to watch the Btranger, and to feel that 
we could render her no assistance. All hands were' at the braces, 

ready to trim the >ails .-hould tin- wind head us ; for, in thai 

we should have to heat out of the channel, which was evi rj instant 

growing more and more Harrow, 'lie' captain stood at the weather 

gangway, conning the ship. When he Baw the ice closing in on 
ns, he ordered every Btitch of canvass the ship could carry to he 
set on her, in hopes of carrying her out before this should occur. 
It was a chance, whether or not we .should he nipped. However, 

1 was not so much occupied with our own danger as not to keep 
an eye on the stranger, and to feel deep interest in her fate. 

10. I was in the mizen-top, and as I possessed a spy-glass, I 
could see clearly all that occurred. The water on which she 
floated was nearly smooth, though covered with foam, caused by 
the masses of ice as they approached each other. I looked ; she 
had but a few fathoms of water on either side of her. As yet she 
floated unharmed. The peril was great ; but the direction of the 
ice might change, and she might yet be free. Still, on it came 
Avith terrific force, and I fancied that I could hear the edges grind- 
ing and crushing together. 

11. The ice closed on the ill-fated ship. She was probably as 
totally unprepared to resist its pressure as we were. At first I 
thought that it lifted her bodily up, but it was not so, I suspect. 
She was too deep in the water for that. Her sides were crushed 
in ; her stout timbers were rent into a thousand fragments ; her 
tall masts tottered and fell, though still attached to the hull. 

12. For an instant I concluded that the ice must have separa- 
ted, or perhaps the edges broke with the force of the concussion ; 
for, as I gazed, the wrecked mass of hull, and spars, and canvass, 
seemed drawn suddenly downward with irresistible force, and a few 
fragments which had been hurled by the force of the concussion to 



COBB'S SPEAKEK. 421 

a distance, were all that remained of the hapless vessel. Not a 
soul of her crew could have had time to escape to the ice. 

13. I looked anxiously ; not a speck could be seen stirring near 
the spot. Such, thought I, may be the fate of the four hundred 
and forty human beings on board this ship, ere many minutes are 
over. I believe that I was the only person on board who witnessed 
the catastrophe. Most of the emigrants were below, and the few 
who were on deck were with the crew watching our own progress. 

14. Still more narrow grew the passage. Some of the parts we 
had passed through were already closed. The wind, fortunately, 
held fair, and though it contributed to drive the ice faster in on 
us, it yet favored our escape. The ship flew through the water at 
a great rate, heeling over to her ports, but though at times it 
seemed as if the masts would go over the sides, still the captain 
held on. A minute's delay might prove our destruction. 

15. Every one held their breaths, as the width of the passage 
decreased, though we had but a short distance more to make good 
before we should be free. 

16. I must confess that all the time I did not myself feel any 
sense of fear. I thought it was a danger more to be apprehended 
for others than myself. At length a shout from the deck reached 
my ears, and looking around, I saw that we were on the outside 
of the floe. We were just in time, for, the instant after, the ice 
met, and the passage through which we had come, was completely 
closed up. The order was now given to keep the helm up, and to 
square away the yards, and with a flowing sheet we ran down the 
edge of the ice . for upwards of three miles, before we were clear 
of it. 

17. Only then did the people begin to inquire .what had become 
of the ship we had lately seen. I gave my account, but few ex- 
pressed any great commiseration for the fate of those who were 
lost. Our captain had had enough of ice, so he steered a course 
to get as fast as possible into more southern latitudes. 



422 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

LESSON OLXl X. 

ADDRESS OF THE PRESIDENT TO Ul LYETTE OE SIS DEFABTURI 

FROM THE IMIKD STATES, 1825. — J. cj. IDAJfS, 

General Lafavktii;, 

1. It has been the good fortune of many of my distinguished 
fellow-citizens, during the course of the year now elapsed, upon 
youi arrival at their respective abodes, to greel yon with t 1j < • wel- 
come of the nation. The Less pleasing task now devolves upon 
me, of bidding you, in the nam.- of the nation, adieu, 

2. It were no longer seasonable, and would be superfluous, to 
recapitulate the remarkable incidents of your early life; incidents 
which associated your name, fortunes, and reputation, in imperish- 
able connexion with the independence and history of the North 
American Union. The part which yon performed at that impor- 
tant junction was marked with characters bo peculiar, that, real- 
izing the fairest fable of antiquity, its parallel could scarcely be 
found in the authentic records of human history. 

3. You deliberately and perseveringly preferred toil, danger, 
the endurance of every hardship, and the privation of every com- 
fort, in defence of a holy cause, to inglorious ease, and the allure- 
ments of rank, affluence, and unrestrained youth, at the most 
splendid and fascinating court of Europe. That this choice was 
not less wise than magnanimous, the sanction of half a century, 
and the gratulations of unnumbered voices, all unable to express 
the gratitude of the heart, with which your visit to this hemi- 
sphere has been welcomed, afford ample demonstration. 

4. When the contest of freedom, to which you had repaired as 
a voluntary champion, had closed, by the complete triumph of 
her cause in this country of your adoption, you returned to fulfil 
the duties of the philanthropist and patriot in the land of your na- 
tivity. There, in a consistent and undeviating career of forty years, 
you have maintained, through every vicissitude of alternate suc- 
cess and disappointment, the same glorious cause, to which the 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 423 

first years of your active life had been devoted ; the improvement 
of the moral and political condition of man. 

5. Throughout that long succession of time, the people of the 
United States, for whom, and with whom, you have fought the 
battles of liberty, have been living in the full possession of its 
fruits, one of the happiest among the family of nations ; spreading 
in population, enlarging in territory, acting and suffering according 
to the condition of their nature, and laying the foundations of the 
greatest, and, we humbly hope, the most beneficent power that 
ever regulated the concerns of man upon earth. 

6. In that lapse of forty years, the generation of men with whom 
you co-Operated in the conflict of arms, has nearly passed away. 
Of the general officers of the American army in that war, you 
alone survive. Of the sages who guided our councils ; of the war- 
riors who met the foe in the field or upon the wave, with the ex- 
ception of a few, to whom unusual length of days has been al- 
lotted by Heaven, all now sleep with their fathers. A succeeding, 
and even a third generation, have arisen to take their places ; and 
their children's children, while rising up to call them blessed, have 
been taught by them, as well as admonished by their own constant 
enjoyment of freedom, to include in every benison upon their fa- 
thers the name of him who came from afar, with them and in 
their cause to conquer or to fall. 

7. The universal prevalence of these sentiments was signally 
manifested by a resolution of Congress, representing the whole 
people,, and all the States of this Union, requesting the President 
of the United States to communicate to you the assurances of the 
grateful and affectionate attachment of this government and peo- 
ple, and desiring that a national ship might be employed, at your 
convenience, for your passage to the borders of our country. 

8. The invitation was transmitted to you by my venerable pred- 
ecessor ; himself bound to you by the strongest ties of personal 
friendship ; himself one of those whom the highest honors of his 
country had rewarded for blood early shed in her cause, and for a 
long life of devotion to her welfare. By him the services of a 
national ship were placed at your disposal. 



424 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

9. Your delicacy preferred u more private conveyance, and a 

full year has elapsed since you landed upon our shorn. It were 
scarcely an exaggeration to say, that it has been to the people of 
the Union a year of uninterrupted festivity and enjoyment, in- 
spired by yoar presence. Von have traversed the twenty-four 
States of this great confederacy. You have been received with rap- 
ture by the survivors of your earliest companions in arm-. 

10. Y<>u have been hailed as a long absent parent by their 
children, the men and women of the present age. and a rising 
generation, the hope of future time, in numbers surpassing the 
whole population at thai day, when you fought at the head and 
by the side of their forefathers, have vied with the scanty remnants 
of that hour of trial, in acclamations of j"\- at beholding the face 
of him whom they feel to be the common benefactor of all. 

11. You have heard the mingled voices of the past, the present, 
and the future age, joining in one universal chorus of delight at 
your approach; and the shouts of unbidden thonaands, which 

d your landing on the soil of freedom, have followed every 
st.p of your way, and still resound, like tin' rushing of many 
waters, from every corner of our land. 

12. You are now about to return to the country of your birth, 
of your ancestors, <>f your posterity. The Executive Government 
of the Union, stimulated by the same feeling which had prompted 
the Congress to the designation of a national ship for your ac- 
commodation in coming hither, has destined the first service of a 
frigate recently launched at this metropolis, to the less welcome, 
but equally distinguished trust, of conveying you home. The 
name of the ship has added one more memorial to distant regions, 
and to future ages, of a stream already memorable at once in the 
story of your sufferings and of our independence. 

13. The ship is now 7 prepared for your reception, and equipped 
for sea. From the moment of her departure, the prayers of mill- 
ions will ascend to Heaven, that her passage may be prosperous, 
and your return to the bosom of your family as propitious to your 
happiness as your visit to this scene of your youthful glory has 
been to that of the American people. 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 



425 



14. Go, then, our beloved friend; return to the land of brilliant 
genius, of generous sentiment, of heroic valor ; to that beautiful 
France, the nursing mother of the Twelfth Louis, and the Fourth 
Henry ; to the native soil of Bayard and Coligni, of Turenne and 
Catinat, of Fenelon and D'Aguesseau. In that illustrious catalogue 
of names which she claims as of her children, and, with honest 
pride, holds up to the admiration of other nations, the name of 
Lafayette has already for centuries been enrolled. 

15. And it shall henceforth burnish into brighter fame ; for if, 
in after days, a Frenchman shall be called to indicate the charac- 
ter of his nation by that of one individual, during the age in which 
we live, the blood of lofty patriotism shall mantle in his cheek, the 
fire of conscious virtue shall sparkle in his eye, and he shall pro- 
nounce the name of Lafayette. Yet w T e, too, and our children, 
in life and after death, shall claim you for our own. 

16. You are ours by that more than patriotic self-devotion with 
which you flew to the aid of our fathers at the crisis of their fate ; 
ours by that long series of years in which you have cherished us 
in your regard ; ours by that unshaken sentiment of gratitude for 
your services which is a precious portion of our inheritance ; ours 
by that tie of love, stronger than death, which has linked your 
name, for the endless ages of time, with the name of Washington. 

1*7. At the painful moment of parting from you, we take com- 
fort in the thought, that, wherever you may be, to the last pulsa- 
tion of your heart, our country will be ever present to your affec- 
tions ; and a cheerful consolation assures us that we are not called to 
sorrow most of all, that we shall see your face no more. We shall 
indulge the pleasing anticipation of beholding our friend again. 
In the mean time, speaking in the name of the whole people of 
the United States, and at a loss only for language to give utterance 
to that feeling of attachment with which the heart of the nation 
beats as the heart of one man, I bid you a reluctant and affec- 
tionate farewell ! 



426 COBJi'S Sl'EAKEK. 

LESSON CLXX. 
lafayette's REPLY to the foregoing address. 

1. Amidst all my obligations to the Genera] Government, and 
particularly to you, sir, its respected Chief Magistrate, I bare most 
thankfully to acknowledge the opportunity given me, at this solemn 
and painful moment, to present the people of the United States 
with a parting tribute of profound, inexpressible gratitude 

2. To have been, in the infant and critical days of these States, 

adopted by them as a favorite son ; to have participated in the 
toils and perils of our unspotted struggle for independence, freedom, 
and equal rights, and in the foundation of the American era of a 
new Bocial order, which has already pervaded this, and must, for 
the dignity and happiness of mankind, successively pervade every 
part of the other hemisphere ; t<> have received, at every -tage of 
the revolution, and during forty years after that period, from the 
people of the United Slate-., and tie ir representatives at home and 
abroad, continual marks of their confidence and kindness, Bfl 
the pride, the encouragement, the support, of a long and eventful 
life. 

3. But how could I find words to acknowledge that series of 
welcomes, those unbounded universal displays of public affection, 
which have marked each step, each hour, of a twelve month's 
progress through the twenty -four States, and which, while they 
overwhelm my heart with grateful delight, have most satisfactorily 
evinced the concurrence of the people in the kind testimonies, in 
the immense favors, bestowed on me by the several branches of 
their representatives in every part, and at the central seat of the 
confederacy ? 

4. Yet gratifications still higher await me. In the wonders of 
creation and improvement that have met my enchanted eye ; in 
the unparalleled and self-felt happiness of the people ; in their 
rapid prosperity and ensured security, public and private ; in a 
practice of good order, the appendage of true freedom ; and a 
national good sense, the final arbiter of all difficulties, I have had 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 



427 



proudly to recognise a result of the republican principles for which 
we have fought, and a glorious demonstration to the most timid 
and prejudiced minds, of the superiority, over degrading aristocracy 
or despotism, of popular institutions, founded on the plain rights 
of man, and where the local rights of every section are preserved 
under a constitutional bond of union. 

5. The cherishing of that union between the States, as it was the 
farewell entreaty of our great, paternal Washington, and will ever 
have the dying prayer of every American patriot, so it has become 
the sacred pledge of the emancipation of the world, an object in 
which I am happy to observe that the American people, while they 
give the animating example of successful free institutions, in return 
for an evil entailed upon them by Europe, and of which a liberal, 
enlightened sense, is every where more and more generally felt, 
show themselves every day more anxiously interested. 

6. And now, sir, how can I do justice to my deep and lively 
feelings, for the assurances, most peculiarly valued, of your esteem 
and friendship ; for your so very kind references to old times, to 
my beloved associates, to the vicissitudes of my life ; for your 
affecting picture of the blessings poured by the several generations 
of the American people on the remaining days of a delighted 
veteran ; for your affectionate remarks on this sad hour of separa- 
tion, on the country of my birth; full, I can say, of American 
sympathies ; on the hope, so necessary to me, of my seeing again 
the country that has deigned, near half a century ago, to call me hers ? 

1. I shall content myself, refraining from superfluous repetitions, 
at once before you, sir, and this respected circle, to proclaim my 
cordial confirmation of every one of the sentiments which I have 
had daily opportunities publicly to utter, from the time when your 
venerable predecessor, my old brother in arms and friend, trans- 
mitted to me the honorable invitation of Congress, to this day, 
when you, my dear sir, whose friendly connexion with me dates 
from your earliest youth, are going to consign me to the protec- 
tion, across the Atlantic, of the heroic national flag, on board the 
splendid ship, the name of which has been not the least flattering 
and kind among the numberless favors conferred upon me. 



428 COBB'S SI'KAKER. 

8. God bless you, sir, and all who surround in ! Gk)d bless the 
American people, each of their State-, and the Federal Govern- 
ment! Accept this patriotic farewell of an overflowing heart; 
such will be its last throb when it oeasee to beat 



LESSON CLXXI. 



1. Oh! deem ao< they are blesl alone 

Whose lives a peaceful tenor keep ; 
The Power who pities man has shown 
A blessing for the eyes that weep. 

2. The light of smiles shall fill again 

The lid that overflows with tears; 
Ami weary hours of WO and pain 
Are promises of happy years. 

3. There is a day of sunny rest 

For every dark and troubled night ; 

And grief may hide, an evening guest, 

But joy shall come with early light. 

4. And thou, who o'er thy friend's low bier 

Sheddest the bitter drops like rain, 
Hope that a happier, brighter shore 
Will give him to thy arms again. 

5. Nor let the good man's trust depart, 

Though life its common gift deny, 

Though pierced and broken be his heart, 

And spurned of men he goes to die. 



COBB'S SPEAKEE. 429 

For God has marked each sorrowing day, 

And numbered every secret tear ; 
And heaven's long age of bliss shall pay 

For all its children suffer here. 



LESSON CLXXIL 

ADVANCEMENT OF SOCIETY. EXTRACT FROM A DISCOURSE DE- 
LIVERED BEFORE THE ALUMNI OF THE UNIVERSITY IN THE 
CITY OF NEW YORK, 1847. BY PROFESSOR C. MASON. 

1. In the various capacities and tendencies of different minds, 
nature has provided for the advancement of society. In the in- 
fancy of society the wants of man are few, but those few are poorly 
supplied ; his employments are few, but they require the labor of 
the tribe ; and yet barbarous nations are the natural seats of 
famine. 

2. Impelled by necessity, and encouraged by success, ingenious 
minds penetrate the secrets of nature, and apply them to diminish 
labor, and multiply its products. The ambitious aspire to power. 
They extend their conquests, and give laws to other tribes, until 
the state gradually rises, and government is established. 

3. Here the various capacities of different minds find scope for 
their development ; and, pursuing their individual tendencies, they 
conspire to work out the advancement of society. Knowledge 
unfolds her ample page, and every line of it has a votary. The 
choice may seem accidental, but nature provides the tendency and 
supplies the impulse. 

4. The votary of a specific art or science is, in some sense, a 
man of destiny, designated in the counsels of nature, and bound 
by his genius and integrity to work out the results of his calling. 
And while he is absorbed by his own favorite pursuit and looks 
coldly on the work of others, he is most effectually serving the 
commonwealth. 



430 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

5. In the structure of different minds, nature has abo provided 
for the origin and growth of the various institutions, which exalt 
the social character and adorn the private life of civilised man. 
Accident is no! allowed to date the existence or form thechai 
of these institutions. They were designed when the constitution 
of man was formed. 

C. They spring op from the mutual sympathies of certain classes 
of minds. They arc the living forms in which the prog 
ci'.'ty is displayed, the repositories of civilization. And it i- 
to mark how they originate in the classification of different minds 
according to their natural tendencies. 

7. The man, who obeys the impulse of his specific calling, natu- 
rally separates himself from all others, and devotes himself to a 
peculiar work. Knowledge attracts him jus! in proportion as it 
relates to his favorite pursuit. JIi> attention is fixed, and his af- 
fection animated ; but, both are directed to a Bingle point. 

8. Conscious of an exalted aim, he veils in solitude his humble 
beginnings, while his imagination swells with the great results lie 
is to produce. He feels that a peculiar dignity belongs to his pur- 
suit. His studi<> and labors bring him in contact with others, 
who have made the same choice, and who have surmounted the 
obstacles he dreads. 

9. Now, his sympathies, which had been suppressed, awake to 
their true objects. Similarity of tastes and pursuits, the true 
source of lasting fraternity, forms around him the social atmo- 
sphere in which he is to live, and creates for him the little world 
of his own associates, which is henceforth to be the theatre of his 
action, the field of his triumph. 

10. Such is the origin of those learned, mechanical, political, 
and humane societies, which separate mankind into appropriate 
classes, according to their natural tastes and capacities. Th< 
cieties checker the face of the world. Their labors are manifest 
and fruitful in every department of thought and action. They 
form the institutions, which collect and preserve the treasures of 
knowledge. They are the specific forms in which civilization is 
wrought out. 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 431 

11. Institutions once established are imitated by the same class 
of minds which originated them. In the progress of society, they 
are modified and improved, or they are abolished only to make 
room for better organizations, designed to cover the same ground, 
and answer the same end : the institution itself is founded in the 
nature of man and in the nature of things. 



LESSON CLXXIII. 

" LIVE THEM DOWN i" CINCINNATI (METHODIST) EXPOSITOR. 

1. Brother, art thou poor and lowly, 

Toiling, drudging day by day, 
Journeying painfully and slowly, 

On thy dark and desert way ? 
Pause not ; though the proud ones frown ! 
Shrink not, fear not ; Live them down ! 

2. Though to vice thou shalt not pander, 

Though to virtue thou shalt kneel, 
Yet thou shalt escape not slander ; 

Jibe and lie thy soul must feel ; 
Jest of witling, curse of clown ; 
Heed not either ! Live them, down ! 

3. Hate may wield her scourges horrid ; 

Malice may thy woes deride ; 
Scorn may bind with thorns thy forehead ; 

Envy's spear may pierce thy side ! 
Lo ! through cross shall come the crown ; 
Fear no foeman ! Live them down ! 



432 COBB* 8 SPEAK BB. 

LESSOK 0L3 XIV. 
amei:ii w bvtsbprisb. — Bitot's merchants' mala/ 

1. Tiikoi i.nui i the whole world, American enterprise has be- 
come a proverb. Go where you will, from tin' ice-bound north, 
to the regions of the torrid zone, in any path where civilized man 
has ever trod, upon the land or the sea ; ami you will not fail to 
encounter evidences of the peculiar genius of our people. 

2. You will find their adventurous enterprise pushing itself into 
every nook and corner of tip- globe, where the materials and op- 
portunities of commerce may bo found, or industry may be sure 
<>f a reward. 

.3. Nor is this spirit impelled by the pressure of any genera] 
pov< rt\ or want of employment at borne, which hears so heavily 
upon Bosme of the European nations; hut, it is nourished by a nat- 
ural love of independence, harmonizing with the theory of our in- 
stitutions; by a Reuse of self-reliance and the hop.- of fortune, 
which more or Less actuates every individual. Jt is a spirit of 

m, the spirit of the age, in which our country seems 
tined by Providence to take (he lead. 

4. J5;it it is at home that the workings of American enterprise 
are to be seen on the grandest scale. Here, untrammelled by an- 
cient customs, uncurbed by despotic institutions or royal monopo- 
lies, the American artisan finds a fair field for the exercise of his 
powers. 

England finds in her old colonies of the West, a rival, which 
threatens to be as dangerous to her in the strife of commerce, as 
it was of old, in the war of Independence. Little by little, the 
American manufactures are driving from the markets of the Union 
every article of British production ; and, in the seas of India and 
China, as well as in the ports of Europe, they advance, in many 
fabrics, at an equal pace with the old and established industry of 
England. 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 433 

LESSON CLXXV. 

THE GOOD SAMARITAN. BIBLE. 

1. A certain lawyer stood up, and tempted him, saying, Master, 
what shall I do to inherit eternal life ? 

He said unto him, What is written in the law ? how readest 
thou? 

2. And he, answering, said, Thou shalt love the Lord thy God 
with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy strength, 
and with all thy mind ; and thy neighbor as thyself. 

3. And he said unto him, Thou hast answered right : this do, 
and thou shalt live. 

But he, willing to justify himself, said unto Jesus, And who is 
my neighbor ? 

4. And Jesus, answering, said, A certain man went down from 
Jerusalem to Jericho, and fell among thieves, which stripped him 
of his raiment, and wounded him, and departed, leaving him half 
dead. 

5. And by chance there came down a certain priest that way ; 
and when he saw him, he passed by on the other side. 

And likewise a Levite, when he was at the place, came and 
looked on him, and passed by on the other side. 

6. But a certain Samaritan, as he journeyed, came where he 
was : and when he saw him, he had compassion on him, 

And went to him, and bound up his wounds, pouring in oil and 
wine, and set him on his own beast, and brought him to an inn, 
and took care of 'him. 

V. And on the morrow, when he departed, he took out two 
pence, and gave them to the host, and said unto him, Take care 
of him : and whatsoever thou spendest more, when I come again, 
I will repay thee. 

8. Which now of these three, thinkest thou, was neighbor unto 
him that fell among the thieves ? 

And he said, He that showed mercy on him. Then said Jesus 
unto him, Go, and do thou likewise. 

19 



434 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

LESSON CLXX V I. 

ADDRESS TO TIIK OOWDOB. MRS. ELLETT. 

1. Wondrous, majestic bird! whose mighty wing 
Dwells not with puny warblers of the spring, 

Nor on earth'a nlenl breast : 

Pow'rful to soar in strength ami pride on high, 
And sweep the azure bosom of (he sky, 
To choose its place of rest 

2. Proud nursling of the tempest ! where repose 
Thy pinions at the daylight's fading close ? 

In what far clime of sight) 
Dost thou in silence, breathless and alone, 
While round thee, swells of life no kindred tone, 

Suspend thy tireless flight ? 

3. The mountain's frozen peak is lone and bare, 
No foot of man hath ever rested there ; 

Yet 'tis thy >port to soar 
Far o'er its frowning summit ; and the plain 
Would seek to win thy downward wing in vain, 

Or the green sea-beat shore. 

4. The limits of thy course no daring eye 

Has marked ; thy glorious path of light on high, 

Is trackless and unknown ; 
The gorgeous sun thy quenchless gaze may share ; 
Sole tenant of his boundless realm of air, 

Thou art, with him, alone. 

5. Imperial wanderer ! the storms that shake 
Earth's towers, and bid her rooted mountains quake, 

Are never felt by thee ! 
Beyond the bolt, beyond the lightning's gleam 
Basking for ever in the unclouded beam, 

Thy home, immensity ! 



COBB'S SPEAK.EK. 435 

6. And thus the soul, with upward flight like thine, 

Mar track the realms where Heaven's pure glories shine, 

And scorn the tempter's powers. 
May soar where cloudless beams of heavenly light, 
Pour forth their full effulgence of delight 

On Heaven's immortal bowers. 



LESSON CLXXVII. 

i?EW ENGLAND. J. G. PERCIVAL. 

Hail to the land whereon we tread ! 

Our fondest boast, 
The sepulchre of mighty dead, 
The truest hearts that ever bled, 
Who sleep on Glory's brightest bed, 

A fearless host : 
No slave is here ; our unchained feet 
"Walk freely, as the waves that beat 

Our coast. 

Our fathers crossed the ocean's wave 

To seek this shore ; 
They left behind the coward slave 
To welter in his living grave. 
With hearts unbent, and spirits brave, 

They sternly bore 
Such toils as meaner souls had quelled ; 
But souls like these such toils impelled 

To soar. 

Hail to the morn, when first they stood 
On Bunker's height, 



436 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

And, fearless, stemmed th 1 invading flood, 
And wrote oar deeresj rights in blood, 
And mowed in rank- the hireling brood, 
In desperate fight I 

0, 'twas a proud, exulting da] : 
For even our fallen fortunes lay 
In Kghl ! 

4. There is no other land like thee, 

No dearer shorn : 
Thou art the shelter of the free ; 
The home, the port of Liberty, 
Thou hast been, and shalt ever be, 

Till time is o'er. 
Ere I forget to think upon 
My land, shall mother curse the son 

She bore. 

5. Thou art the firm, unshaken rock 

On which we rest ; 
And, rising from thy hardy stock, 
Thy sons the tyrant's frown shall mock, 
And Slavery's galling chains unlock, 

And free th' oppressed ; 
All, who the wreath of Freedom twine, 
Beneath the shadow of their vine 

Are blest. 

6. We love thy rude and rocky shore, 

And here we stand : 
Let foreign navies hasten o'er, 
And on our heads their fury pour, 
And peal their cannon's loudest roar, 

And storm our land ; 
They still shall find our lives are given 
To die for home, and leant on Heaven 

Our hand. 



COBB'S SPEAKEB. 437 

LESSON CLXXVIII. 

PASSAGE ACROSS THE ANDES. HEAD'S ROUGH NOTES. 

1. As soon as we crossed the pass, which is only seventy yards 
long, the captain told me, that it was a very bad place for baggage 
mules ; that four hundred had been lost there, and that we should 
also very probably lose one. He said that he would get down to 
the water at a place about a hundred yards off, and wait there 
with his lasso to catch what might fall into the torrent, and he re- 
quested me to lead on his mule. However, I was resolved to see 
the tumble if there was to be one ; so the captain took away my 
mule and his own ; and, while I stood on a projecting rock at the 
end of the pass, he scrambled down on foot, till he at last got to 
the level of the water. 

2. The drove of mules now-came in sight, one following another : 
a few were carrying no burdens, but the rest were either mounted 
or heavily laden ; and, as they wound along the crooked path, the 
difference of color in the animals, the different colors and shapes 
of the baggage which they were carrying, with the picturesque 
dress of the peons, who were vociferating the wild song by which 
they drive on the mules, and the dangerous path they had to cross, 
formed altogether a very interesting scene. 

3. As soon as the leading mule came to the commencement 
of the pass, he stopped, evidently unwilling to proceed ; and, of 
course, all the rest stopped also. He was the finest mule we had ; 
and, on that account had twice as much to carry as any of the 
others : his load had never been relieved, and it consisted of four 
portmanteaus, two of which belonged to me, and which contained 
not only a very heavy bag of dollars, but also papers which were 
of such consequence, that I could hardly have continued my journey 
without them. 

4. The peons now redoubled their cries, and leaning over the 
sides of the mules, and picking up stones, they threw them at the 
leading mule, who now commenced his journey over the path. 
With his nose down to the ground, literally smelling his way, he 



438 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

walked gently on, after changing the position of his feet, if lie 
found the ground would not bear, until he came to the bad part 
of the pass, where he again stopped. Then, I certainly began to 
look with great anxiety at my portmanteaus ; but, the peons again 
threw stones at him, and he continued his path, and reached me 
m safety : several others followed. 

5. At last a young mule, carrying a portmanteau, with two large 
sacks of provisions, and many other things, in passing the bad point, 
struck his load against the rock, which knocked his two hind legs 
ore* the precipice, and the loose stones immediately began to roll 
from under them : however, bis fore legs were still upon the narrow 
path ; be had no room to put bis head there; but, he placed his 
nose on the path on his left, and appeared to hold on by his mouth. 

6. His perilous fate was soon decided by a loose mule which 
came after him, and, knocking his comrade's nose off the path, 
destroyed the balance ; and, heels over head the poor creature in- 
stantly commenced a fall, which was really quite terrific. With 
all his baggage firmly lashed to him, he rolled down the steep 
slope, until he came to the part which was perpendicular; and 
then, seeming to bound otf, and turning around in the air, fell into 
the deep torrent on his back and baggage, and instantly disappeared. 

*7. I thought, of course, that he was killed ; but, he rose, appear- 
ing wild and scared, and immediately endeavored to stem the 
torrent which was foaming about him. For a moment he seemed 
to succeed ; but, the eddy suddenly caught the great load on his 
back, and turned him completely over ; down went his head, with 
all his baggage, and he was carried down the stream. As sud- 
denly, however, he came up again ; but, he was now weak, and 
went down the stream, turned around and around by the eddy, 
until, passing the corner of the rock, I lost sight of him. 

8. I saw, however, the peons, with their lassoes in their hands, 
run down the side of the torrent for some little distance ; but, they 
soon stopped ; and, after looking towards the poor mule for some 
seconds, their earnest attitude gradually relaxed, and when they 
walked towards me, I concluded that all was over. I walked up 
to the peons, and was just going to speak to them, when I saw at 






COBB'S SPEAKEK. 439 

a distance a solitary mule walking towards us. We instantly per- 
ceived that lie was the same whose fall we had just witnessed ; 
and, in a few moments, he came up to us to join his comrades. 



LESSON CLXXIX. 

LAKE WYALUSINO. WILLIAM H. C. HOSMER. 

[This lake lies in a circular basin on the top of a wooded mountain in 
Susquehanna county, Pa. Nothing in water scenery surpasses it in fea- 
tures of the picturesque.] 

1. A bridle path we long pursued, 

That up the misty mountain led, 
And weeping birch and hemlock rude 

The gloom of twilight round us shed ; 
And to our saddle bows we stooped, 
So low the trailing branches drooped. 

2. A fair one of the party cried, 

" This lake is but a poet's dream, 
In chase of it why farther ride ? 

No waters on the summit gleam." 
Then checked her horse, for at his feet 
Lay Wyalusing's glittering sheet. 

3. Joy, like a wave, overflowed my soul 

"While looking on its basin round, 
That fancy named a sparkling bowl, 

By hoop of fadeless emerald bound, 
From which boon Nature's holy hand 
Baptized the nymphs of mountain land. 

4. It blushes in the morning's glow, 

And glitters in the sunset ray, 



440 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

When brooks that run far, far below 

Have murmured out farewell t<» day ; 
The moonlight on its placid breast, 
When dark the valley, loves to rest. 

5. Wheeling in circles overhead, 

Hie feathered kimr a war-scream gave; 
His form, with pinion wide outspread, 

Wis traced so clearly on the wave, 
That, Beemingly, it- glass was stirred 

By flappings of the gallant bird. 

6. Not far away where rocky shelves, 

With the soft moss of ages lined, 
And seated there a row of elves 

By moonlight would the poet find, 
Fairies, from slumber in the shade, 
Waking with soft-voiced serenade. 

7. The waters slept, by wind uncurled, 

Encircled by a zone of green ; 
The reflex of some purer world 

Within their radiant blue was seen. 
I felt, while musing on the shore, 
As if strong winds my soul upbore. 

8. Lake ! flashing in the mountain's crown, 

Thought pictured thee some diamond bright 
That dawn had welcomed ; fallen down 

From the starred canopy of night ; 
Or chrysolite by thunder rent 
From heaven's eternal battlement. 



COBB'S SPEAKER, 441 

LESSON CLXXX. 

EXTRACT FROM "MESSIAH." POPE. 

1. The Savior comes ! by ancient bards foretold : 
Hear him, ye deaf; and all ye blind, behold ! 
He from thick films shall purge the visual ray, 
And on the sightless eyeball pour the day : 
'Tis he th' obstructed paths of sound shall clear, 



And bid new music charm th' unfolding; ear : 



2. The dumb shall sing, the lame his crutch forego, 
And leap, exulting, like the bounding roe. 

No sigh, no murmur, the wide world shall hear ; 
From every face he wipes off every tear. 
In adamantine chains shall death be bound, 
And hell's grim tyrant feel th' eternal wound. 

3. As the good shepherd tends his fleecy care, 
Seeks freshest pasture and the purest air ; 
Explores the lost, the wandering sheep directs, 
By day o'ersees them, and by night protects ; 
The tender lambs he raises in his arms, 
Feeds from his hand, and in his bosom warms : 
Thus shall mankind his guardian care engage, 
The promised father of the future age. 

4. No more ^hall nation against nation rise, 
Nor ardent warriors meet, with hateful eyes ; 
Nor fields with gleaming steel be covered o'er ; 
The brazen trumpets kindle rage no more ; 
But useless lances into scythes shall bend, 
And the broad falchion in a ploughshare end. 

5. Then palaces shall rise ; the joyful son 
Shall finish what his short-lived sire begun ; 
Their vines a shadow to their race shall yield, 
And the same hand that sowed shall reap the field. 

19* 



442 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

The swain in barren deserts with surprise 
Sees lilies spring, and sudden verdure rise; 
And starts amidst the thirsty wilds to hear 

New falls of water murmuring in his car. 

6. On rifted rocks, the dragon's late abodes, 

The green reed trembles, and the bulrush nods. 
Waste, sandy valleys, once perplexed with thorn, 
The spiry fir, and shapely box adorn: 
To leafless shrubs the flowery palms succeed, 
And odorous myrtle to the noisome weed. 

7. The lamb- with wolves shall graze the verdant mead, 
And boys in flowery bands the tiger lead. 

The steer and Hon at one crib shall meet, 
And harmless serpents lick the pilgrim's feet 
The smiling infant in his hand shall take 
The crested basilisk and speckled snake; 
pleased, the green lustre of the scales survey, 
And with their forky tongues shall innocently play. 

8. Rise, crowned with light, imperial Salem, rise ! 
Exalt thy towery head, and lift thy ej 

See a long race thy spacious courts adorn ; 
See future sons, and daughters yet unborn, 
In crowding ranks on every side arise, 
Demanding life, impatient for the skies ! 

9. See barbarous nations at thy gates attend, 
Walk in thy light and in thy temple bend ! 

See thy bright altars thronged with prostrate kings, 
And heaped with products of Sabean springs ! 
For thee Idume's spicy forests blow, 
And seeds of gold in Ophir's mountains glow. 
See heaven its sparkling portals wide display, 
And break upon thee in a flood of day ! 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 443 

10. No more the rising sun shall gild the morn, 
Nor evening Cynthia fill her silver horn ; 
But lost, dissolved in thy superior rays, 
One tide of glory, one unclouded blaze, 
O'erflow thy courts : the Light himself shall shine 
Revealed, and God's eternal day be thine ! 
The seas shall waste, the skies in smoke decay, 
Rocks fall to dust, and mountains melt away ; 
But fixed his word, his saving power, remains ; 
Thy realm for ever last, thy own Messiah reigns ! 



LESSON CLXXXI. 

CHARACTER OF MR. PITT. ROBERTSON". 

1. The secretary stood alone. Modern degeneracy had not 
reached him. Original and unaccommodating, the features of his 
character had the hardihood of antiquity. His august mind over- 
awed majesty itself. No state chicanery, no narrow system of 
vicious politics, no idle contest for ministerial victories, sunk him to 
the vulgar level of the great ; but, overbearing, persuasive, and 
impracticable, his object was England, his ambition was fame. 

2. Without dividing, he destroyed party ; without corrupting, 
he made a venal age unanimous. France sunk beneath him. 
With one hand he smote the house of Bourbon, and wielded in the 
other the democracy of England. The sight of his mind was in- 
finite ; and his schemes were to affect, not England, not the present 
age only, but Europe and posterity. Wonderful were the means 
by which these schemes were accomplished ; always seasonable, 
always adequate, the suggestions of an understanding animated by 
ardor, and enlightened by prophecy. 

3. The ordinary feelings which make life amiable and indolent 
were unknown to him. No domestic difficulties, no domestic weak- 
ness reached him ; but aloof from the sordid occurrences of life, and 



444 OOBB'S si*i-: a k I i:. 

unsullied by its intercourse, be came occasionally into ow i; 
to counsel and decide. A. charad dted, so stream 

various, so authoritative, astonished a corrupt age, and the treasury 
trembled at the nam.- of Tin. through all I venality. 

4. Corruption imagined, indeed, that Bhe had found defects in thk 
statesman, and talked much of the inconsistency of ma glory, and 
much of the ruin of hii victories; bul the hist >rj of bit country, 
and tin- calamities of the enemy, answered and refuted her. Not 
were his political his only talents. Bis eloq • n era in 
the senate; peculiar and spontaneous; familiarly expressing gigan- 
tic sentiments and instructive wisdom; act like the torrent of 
Demosthenes, or the splendid conflagration ofTuUj; it resembled 
sometimes the thund< r, and sometimes the music of the sph 

5. II«i did Dot conduct the understanding through the painful 
subtlety of argumentation, nor was he ever on the rack of 

tion ; but rather lightened upon the Bubject,and reached the point 
by the flashings of the mind, which, like those of t\ re felt, 

but could not be followed 

C. Upon the whole, there was in this man something that could 
create, subvert, or reform ; an understanding, a spirit, and an elo- 
quence, to summon mankind I , or to break the bonds of 
slavery asunder, and to rule the wildnesfl of free minds with un- 
bounded authority; something that could establish, or overwhelm 
empires, and strike a blow in the world that should resound through 
the universe. 



LESSON CLXXXII. 

LIFE OF A NATURALIST. JOHN J. AUDUBON. 

1. The adventures and vicissitudes which have fallen to my lot, 
instead of tending to diminish the fervid enthusiasm of my nature, 
have imparted a toughness to my bodily constitution, naturally 
strong, and to my mind, naturally buoyant, an elasticity such as to 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 445 

assure me that, though somewhat old, and considerably denuaed 
in the frontal region, I could yet perform on foot a journey of any 
length, where I should thereby add materially to our knowledge 
of the ever interesting creatures which have for so long a time 
occupied my thoughts by day, and rilled my dreams with pleasant 
images. 

2. Nay, had I a new lease of life presented to me, I should 
choose for it the very occupation in which I have been engaged. 
And, reader, the life which I have led has been, in some respects, 
a singular one. 

3. Think of a person, intent on such pursuits as mine have been, 
aroused at an early dawn from his rude couch on the alder-fringed 
brook of some Northern valley, or in the midst of some yet unex- 
plored forest of the West, or perhaps on the soft and warm sands 
of the Florida shores, and listening to the pleasing melodies of 
songsters innumerable, saluting the magnificent orb, from whose 
radiant influence the creatures of many worlds receive life and 
light. 

4. Refreshed and re-invigorated by healthful rest, he starts upon 
his feet, gathers up bis store of curiosities, buckles on his knap- 
sack, shoulders his trusty firelock, says a kind word to his faith- 
ful dog, and re-commences his pursuit of zoological knowledge. 
Now the morning is spent, and a squirrel or a trout affords him a 
repast. Should the day be warm, he reposes for a time under the 
shade of some tree. 

o. The woodland choristers again burst forth into song, and he 
starts anew to wander wherever his fancy may direct him, or the 
object of his search may lead him in pursuit. When evening 
approaches, and the birds are seen betaking themselves to their re- 
treat, he looks for some place of safety, erects his shed of green 
boughs, kindles a fire, prepares his meal, and, as the pigeon, or, 
perhaps, the breast of a turkey, or a steak of venison, sends its 
delicious perfumes abroad, he enters into his parchment-bound 
journal the remarkable incidents and facts that have occurred in 
the course of the day. 

6. Darkness has now drawn her sable curtain over the scene ; 



446 COBB'S SPEAK Eli. 

his repast is finished, and, kneeling on the earth, he raises hi 
to Heaven, grateful fur the protection thai has been granted him, 
and the sense of the Divine presence in this solitary place. Then, 
wishing a cordial good-night t«» all near friends at home, the 
American woodsman wraps himself up in his blanket, and, doeing 
his eyes, soon falls into that comfortable sloe}- which never fails 
him on such occasions. 



LESSON CLXXX 1 1 I. 



PATRIOTIC BPBSOB ok aOBERT BMMBT, Kxj., BSFOBI LOKD NOR- 
BUBT, at nit: BBBBIOB n<>i KB, DUBLIN, OB an BBDZOIHBB1 FOR 
JIKill TBBASOB. 

[This gallant young man had been an active leader in a Revolutionary 
attempt in Ireland, vulgarly and basely called, an " Irish Rebellion." He 
suffered death in 1803, and in the twenty -second year of his age.] 

1. My Lords, What have I bo say why the sentence of death 
should not be pronounced on me, according to law? I have 
nothing to any, that can alter your predetermination, nor that it 
will become me to say with any view to the mitigation of that 
sentence which you are here to pronounce, and I must abide 
by. But I have that to say which interests me more than life, 
and which you have labored, (as was necessarily your office in the 
present circumstances of this oppressed country,) to destroy. I 
have much to say, why my reputation should be rescued from the 
load of false accusation and calumny, which has been heaped 
upon it. 

2. I do not imagine that, seated where you are, your minds can 
be so free from impurity, as to receive the least impression from 
what I am going to utter ; I have no hopes that I can anchor my 
character in the breast of a court constituted and trammelled as 
this is ; I only wish, and it is the utmost I expect, that your lord- 
ships may suffer it to float down your memories untainted by the 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 447 

foul breath of prejudice, until it finds some more hospitable harbor 
to shelter it from the storm by which it is at present buffeted. 

3. Were I only to surfer death, after being adjudged guilty by 
your tribunal, I should bow in silence, and meet the fate that 
awaits me without a murmur : but the sentence of law which de- 
livers my body to the executioner, will, through the ministry of 
that law, labor in ift own vindication, to consign my character to 
obloquy, for there must be guilt somewhere : whether in the sen- 
tence of the court or in the catastrophe, posterity must determine. 

4. A man in my situation, my lords, has not only to encounter 
the difficulties of fortune, and the force of power over minds which 
it has corrupted or subjugated, but the difficulties of established 
prejudice : the man dies, but his memory lives : that mine may 
not perish, that it may live in the respect of my countrymen, I 
seize upon this opportunity to vindicate myself from some of the 
charges alleged against me. 

5. When my spirit shall be wafted to a more friendly port ; 
when my shade shall have joined the bands of those martyred 
heroes who have shed their blood on the scaffold and in the field, 
in defence of their country and of virtue, this is my hope ; I wish 
that my memory and name may animate those who survive me, 
while I look down with complacency on the destruction of that 
perfidious government, which upholds its domination by blasphemy 
of the Most High ; which displays its power over man as over the 
beasts of the forest ; which sets man upon his brother, and lifts his 
hand in the name of God against the throat of his fellow who be- 
lieves or doubts a little more or a little less than the government 
standard ; a government which is steeled to barbarity by the cries 
of the orphans and the tears of the widows which it has made. 

[Here Lord Norbury interrupted Mr. Emmet, saying, that the mean and 
wicked enthusiasts who felt as he did, were not equal to the accomplish- 
ment of their wild designs.] 

6. I appeal to the immaculate God, I swear by the throne of 
Heaven, before which I must shortly appear, by the blood of the 
murdered patriots who have gone before me, that my conduct has 



448 COBB'S SPEAKEK. 

been, through all this peril and all my purposes, governed only by 
the convictions which I have uttered, and by no other \ic\v than 
that of their cure, and the emancipation of my country from the 
superinhuman oppression under which she has so long and too pa- 
tiently travailed ; and that 1 confidently and assuredly hope, that, 

wild and chimeriea] as it may appear, there are still union and 

strength in [reland to accomplish this noble enterprise. 

7. Of this I speak with the confidence of intimate knowledge, 
and with the consolation that appertains to (hat confidence. Think 

not, my lord, I say this for the petty gratification of giving you a 
transitory uneasiness ; a man who never yet raised his voice to 
assert a lie, will not hazard his character with posterity by assert- 
in-- a falsehood on a subject so important to his country, and on 
an occasion like this. Yes, my lords, a man who does not wish to 
have his epitaph written until his country is liberated, will not 
leave a weapon in the power of envy ; nor a pretence to impeach 
the probity which he means to preserve even in the grave to which 
tyranny consigns him — 

[Here he was again interrupted by the court.] 

8. Again I say, that what I have spoken was not intended for 
your lordship, whose situation I commiserate rather than envy ; 
my expressions were for my countrymen ; if there be a true 
Irishman present, let my last words cheer him in the hour of his 
affliction — 

[Here he was again interrupted. Lord Norbury said he did not sit 
there to hear treason.] 

9. I have always understood it to be the duty of a judge, when 
a prisoner has been convicted, to pronounce the sentence of the 
law ; I have also understood that judges sometimes think it their 
duty, to hear with patience, and to speak with humanity ; to ex- 
hort the victim of the laws, and to offer with tender benignity his 
opinions of the motives by which he was actuated in the crime, 
of which he has been adjudged guilty : 

10. That a judge has thought it his duty so to do, I have no 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 



449 



doubt ; but where is the boasted freedom of your institutions, 
where are the vaunted impartiality, clemeney, and mildness of your 
courts of justice, if an unfortunate prisoner, whom your policy, and 
not pure justice, is about to deliver into the hands of the execu- 
tioner, be not suffered to explain his motives sincerely and truly, 
and to vindicate the principles by which he was actuated ? 

11. My lords, it may be a part of the system of angry justice, 
to bow a man's mind by humiliation to the purposed ignominy 
of the scaffold ; but worse to me than the purposed shame, or the 
scaffold's terrors, would be the shame of such foul and unfounded 
imputations as have been laid against me in this court : you, my 
lord, are a judge, I am the supposed culprit ; I am a man, you are 
a man also ; by a revolution of power, we might change places, 
though we never could change characters ; if I stand at the bar of 
this court, and dare not vindicate my character, what a farce is 
your justice ! 

12. If I stand at this bar and dare not vindicate my character, 
how dare you calumniate it ? Does the sentence of death which 
your unhallowed policy inflicts on my body, also condemn my 
tongue to silence and my reputation to reproach ? Your execu- 
tioner may abridge the period of my existence ; but while I exist, 
I shall not forbear to vindicate my character and motives from 
your aspersions ; and as a man to whom fame is dearer than life, 
I will make the last use of that life in doing justice to that repu- 
tation which is to live after me, and which is the only legacy I can 
leave those I honor and love, and for whom I am proud to perish. 

13. As men, my lord, we must appear at the great day at one 
common tribunal, and it will then remain for the Searcher of all 
hearts to show a collective universe who was engaged in the most 
virtuous actions, or actuated by the purest motives, my country's 
oppressor or— 

[Here he was interrupted, and told to listen to the sentence of the law.] 

14. My lord, will a dying man be denied the legal privilege of 
exculpating himself, in the eyes of the community, of an unde- 
served reproach thrown upon him during his trial, by charging 



450 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

him with ambition, and attempting to cast away, for a paltry con- 
sideration, the liberties of his country I Why <li<l your lordship 
insult me ? or rather why insult justice, in demanding of me why 
sentence of death should not be pronounced ? 

15. I know, my lord, that form prescribes that you should ask 
the question; the form also presumes ;» right of answering. This 
no doubt may be dispensed with, and so might the whole c< le- 
mony of trial, since sentence was already pronounced at the castle, 
before your jury was empannelled ; your lordships are but the 
priests of the oracle, and I submit; but I insist on the whole of 
the forms — 

[ Here the court desired him to proceed.] 

16. I am charged with being an emissary of France ! An emis- 
sary of France ! And for what end ? It is alleged that I wished 
to sell the independence of my country ! And for what end ? 
Was this the object of my ambition? And is this the mode by 
which a tribunal of justice reconciles contradictions J No, I am 
no emissary; and my ambition was to hold a place among the 
deliverers of my country ; not in power, nor in profit, but in the 
glory of the achievement ! 

17. Sell my country's independence to France ! And for what ? 
Was it for a change of masters ? No ! But for ambition ! O, 
my country, was it personal ambition that could influence me ? 
had it been the soul of my actions, could I not by my education and 
fortune, by the rank and consideration of my family, have placed 
myself among the proudest of my oppressors ? My country was 
my idol ; to it I sacrificed every selfish, every endearing sentiment ; 
and for it I now offer up my life. 

18. O God ! No, my lord ; I acted as an Irishman, determined 
on delivering my country from the yoke of a foreign and unrelent- 
ing tyranny, and from the more galling yoke of a domestic faction, 
which is its joint partner and perpetrator in the parricide ; for the 
ignominy of existing with an interior of splendor and of conscious 
depravity. It was the wish of my heart to extricate my country 
from this doubly riveted despotism. I wished to place her inde- 






COBB'S SPEAKER. 



451 



pendence beyond the reach of any power on earth ; I wished to 
exalt her to that proud station in the world. 

19. I have been charged with that importance in the efforts to 
emancipate my country, as to be considered the key-stone of the 
combination of Irishmen ; or, as your lordship expressed it, " the 
life and blood of conspiracy." You do me honor over-much. 
You have given to the subaltern all the credit of a superior. 
There are men engaged in this conspiracy, who are not only supe- 
rior to me, but even to your own conceptions of yourself, my lord ; 
men, before the splendor of whose genius and virtues I should bow 
with respectful deference, and who would think themselves dis- 
honored to be called your friend ; who would not disgrace them- 
selves by shaking your blood-stained hand — 

[Here he was interrupted.] 

20. What, my lord, shall you tell me, on the passage to that 
scaffold, which that tyranny, of which you are only the interme- 
diary executioner, has erected for my murder, that I am account- 
able for all the blood that has, and will be shed in this struggle 
of the oppressed against the oppressor ? shall you tell me this, and 
must I be so very a slave as not to repel it ? 

21. I do not fear to approach the omnipotent Judge, to answer 
for the conduct of my whole life ; and am I to be appalled and 
falsified by a mere remnant of mortality here ? By you, too, who, 
if it were possible to collect all the innocent blood that you have 
shed in your unhallowed ministry, in one great reservoir, your 
lordship might swim in it — 

[Here the Judge interfered.] 

22. Let no man dare, when I am dead, to charge me with dis- 
honor : let no man attaint my memory by believing that I could 
have engaged in any cause but that of my country's liberty and 
independence ; or that I could have become the pliant minion of 
power in the oppression or the miseries of my countrymen. The 
proclamation of the provisional government speaks for our views ; 
no inference can be tortured from it to countenance barbarity or 



452 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

debasement at home, or subjection, humiliation, or treachery from 
abroad; I would not have submitted to a foreign oppressor, for 
the same reason that I would resist the foreign and domestic op- 
pressor; in the dignity of freedom I would have fought upon the 
threshold of my country, and its enemy should enter only by pa-s- 
ing over my Lifeless corpse. 

23. Am I, who lived but for my country, and who have sub- 
jected myself to the dangers of the jealous and watchful oppres- 
sor, and the bondage of the grave, only to give my eountrymed 
their rights and my country her independence, and am I to be 
loaded with calumny, and not Buffered to resent or repel it? No, 
God forbid ! 

24. If the spirits of the illustrious dead participate in the con- 
cerns and cares of those who are dear t<» them in this transitory 
lit'.- : ever dear and venerated shade of my departed father, look 
down with scrutiny upon the conduct of your Buffering son ; and 
see if I have even for a moment deviated from those principles of 
morality and patriotism which it was your care to LnstU into my 
youthful mind ; and for which I am now to ofler up my life. 

25. My lords, you are impatient for the sactiiice ; the blood 
which you seek is not congealed by the artificial terrors which sur- 
round your victim ; it circulates warmly and unruffled, through 
the channels which God createdfor noble purposes, but which you 
are bent to destroy, for purposes so grievous, that they cry to 
heaven. Be yet patient ! I have but a few words more to say. 
I am going to my cold and silent grave : my lamp of life Is nearly 
extinguished : my race is run : the grave opens to receive me, and 

I sink into its bosom ! 

26. I have but one request to ask at my departure from this 
world ; it is the charity of its silence ! Let no man write my 
epitaph : for as no man who knows my motives dare now vindi- 
cate them, let not prejudice or ignorance asperse them. Let them 
and me repose in obscurity and peace, and my tomb remain unin- 
scribed, until other times, and other men, can do justice to my 
character ; when my country takes her place among the nations 
of the earth, then, and not till then, let my epitaph be written. I 

II AVE DONE. 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 



453 



LESSON CLXXXIV. 



RED JACKET, THE INDIAN CHIEF. F. G. HALLECK. 

1. Thou wert a monarch born. Tradition's pages 

Tell not the planting of thy parent tree, 
But that the forest tribes have bent for ages, 
To thee and to thy sires, the subject knee. 

2. Thy name is princely, though no poet's magic 

Could make Red Jacket grace an English rhyme, 
Unless he had a gamut for the tragic, 
And introduced it into pantomime ; 

3. Yet it is music in the language spoken 

Of thine own land ; and on her herald-roll, 
As nobly fought for, and as proud a token 
As Coeur de Lion's* of a warrior's soul. 

4. Thy garb, though Austria's bosom-stars would frighten 

That metal pale, as diamonds the dark mine, 
And George the Fourth wore in the dance at Brighton, 
A more becoming evening dress than thine ; 

5. Yet 'tis a brave one, scorning wind and weather, 

And fitted for thy couch on field and flood, 

As Rob Roy'sf tartan, for the Highland heather ; 

Or forest green, for England's Robin Hood.f 

6. Is strength a monarch's merit ? (like a whaler's ?) 

Thou art as tall, as sinewy, and as strong 
As earth's first kings, the Argo's gallant sailors, 
Heroes in history, and gods in song. 

* Cceur de Lion, (pro. Keur de Lee-on,) lion-hearted, a name given to 
Richard I., of England. 

t These were celebrated outlaws, the one of Scotland, the other of Eng- 
land. 



454 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

7. Is eloquence? Her spell is thine, thai reaches 

The heart, and makes the wisest head its sport ; 
And there's one rare, strange virtue in thy speeches; 
The secret of their mastery ; they are short. 

8. Is beauty ? Thine has with thy youth departed ; 

But the love-legends of thy manhood's years, 
And she who perished young and broken-hearted, 
Are ; but I rhyme for smiles, and not for tears. 

9. The monarch-mind, the mystery of commanding, 

The god-like power, the art Napoleon, 
Of winning, fettering, moulding, wielding, bending, 
The hearts of millions till they move as one ; 

10. Thou hast it. At thy bidding, men have crowded 

The road to death as to a festival ; 
And minstrel minds, without a blush, have shrouded, 
With banner-folds of glory, their dark pall. 

11. Who will believe, not I, for in deceiving 

Lies the dear charm of life's delightful dream ; 
I can not spare the luxury of believing 

That all things beautiful are what they seem : 

12. Who would believe, that, with a smile whose blessing 

Would, like the patriarch's, sooth a dying hour ; 
With voice as low, as gentle, as caressing, 

As e'er won maiden's lip in moonlight bower ; 

13. With look, like patient Job's, eschewing evil ; 

With motions graceful as a bird's in air ; 
Thou art, in sober truth, the veriest devil 

That e'er clinched fingers in a captive's hair ? 

14. That in thy veins there springs a poison fountain, 

Deadlier than that which bathes the Upas-tree : 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 455 

And, in thy wrath, a nursing cat o'mountain 
Is calm as her babe's sleep compared with thee ? 

15. And, underneath that face, like summer's ocean's, 

Its lip as moveless, and its cheek as clear, 
Slumbers a whirlwind of the heart's emotions, 
Love, hatred, pride, hope, sorrow, all, save fear. 

16. Love, for thy land, as if she were thy daughter, 

Her pipes in peace, her tomahawk in wars ; 
Hatred, of missionaries and cold water ; 
Pride, in thy rifle-trophies and thy scars ; 

17. Hope, that thy wrongs will be, by the Great Spirit, 

Remembered and revenged, when thou art gone ; 
Sorrow, that none are left thee to inherit 

Thy name, thy fame, thy passions, and thy throne. 



LESSON CLXXXV. 

A SONG FOR YOUTH. BARSTOW. 

1. Oh ! why should tears bedim the eye, 

Or doubts obscure the mind, 
Away let grief and trouble fly, 

As clouds before the wind. 
The fiercest tempests die away, 

The roughest storms subside, 
So let our hearts be light and gay, 

Whatever ills betide. 

2. When thick and dark the tempest lowers, 

And thunders mutter low, 
We feel the sweet refreshing showers, 
We see hope's varied bow. 



456 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

When clouds obscure the rammer sky, 
Aud hid*' ill-- bub's warm beam, 

From out the darkest cloudf on 1 1 i ■ > 1 1 , 
The brightest lightnings gleam. 

3. The dew-drops, tears of sorrowing night, 

Refresh the opening rose, 
And in the mornings joyful might, 

As beauty's cheek it glows. 
New fragrance every flow'ret gains, 

And grows more fresh and fair, 
Beneath the frequent summer rains, 

Beneath the clouded air. 

4. When doubt and sorrow cloud our sky, 

And tears, as dew and rain, 
Fall on our path incessantly, 

A path of grief and pain ; 
Why, pluck the flowers upon our way, 

And see the lightning shine, 
And let our hearts be light and gay, 

'Tis useless to repine ! 



LESSON CLXXXVI. 

NIAGARA FALLS. BRAINERD. 

The thoughts are strange that crowd into my brain, 
While I look upward to thee. It would seem 
As if God poured thee from his " hollow hand ;" 
And hung his bow upon thine awful front ; 
And spake in that loud voice, which seemed to him 
Wlio dwelt in Patmos for his Savior's sake, 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 457 



* The sound of many waters ;" and had bade 
Thy flood to chronicle the ages back, 
And notch his centuries in the eternal rocks ! 
" Deep calleth unto deep P' 



And what are we, 
That hear the question of that voice sublime ? 
O, what are all the notes that ever rang 
From war's vain trumpet, by thy thundering side 
Yea, what is all the riot man can make 
In his short life, to thine unceasing roar ? 



And yet, bold babbler, what art thou to Him, 
Who drowned a world, and heaped the waters far 
Above its loftiest mountains ? A light wave, 
That breaks and whispers of its Maker's might. 



LESSON CLXXXVII. 

THE FAMILY MEETING. CHARLES SPRAGUE. 

We are all here ! 
Father, mother, 
Sister, brother, 
All who hold each other dear. 
Each chair is filled : we're all at home : 
To-night, let no cold stranger come : 
It is not often thus around 
Our old familiar hearth we're found : 
Bless then the meeting and the spot ; 
For once, be every care forgot ; 
Let gentle Peace assert her power, 
And kind Affection rule the hour ; 
We're all all here. 
20 



458 cobb's speaker. 

2. We're not all here ! 

Some are away ; the dead ones dear, 
Who thronged with us this ancient hearth, 
And gave the hour to guiltless mirth. 
Fate, with a stern, relentless hand, 
Looked in and thinned our little band ! 
Some, like a night flash passed away, 
And some sank lingering day by day ; 
The quiet grave-yard ; .^ome lie there; 
And cruel Ocean has his share : 
We're not all here. 

8. We are all here ! 

Even they, the dead, though dead, so dear, 
Fond Memory, to her duty true, 
Brings back their faded forms to view. 
How life-like through the mist of years, 
Each well-remembered face appears ! 
We see them as in times long past, 
From each to each kind looks are cast ; 
We hear their words, their smiles behold, 
They're round us, as they were of old : 
We are all here. 

4. We are all here ! 

Father, mother, 

Sister, brother, 
You that I love with love so dear. 
This may not long of us be said ; 
Soon must we join the gathered dead, 
And by the hearth we now sit round, 
Some other circle will be found. 
Oh ! then, that wisdom may we know, 
Which yields a life of peace below ; 
So, in the world to follow this, 
May each repeat, in words of bliss, 

We're all ; all ; here ! 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 
LESSON CLXXXVIII. 

THE LILT OF THE MOUNTAIN. LITERARY EMPORIUM. 

1. A superficial observer of the inequalities of life, might sup- 
pose there is a greater variety of human happiness than corre- 
sponds with facts. The parade of power, the pride of birth, and 
the magnificence of wealth, seem to indicate an enjoyment far 
greater than can subsist with the plain attire, the frugal repast, and 
the humble seclusion of the cottage. This would be a correct in- 
ference, if the mind could be happy by the parade of external cir- 
cumstances. 

2. But a contented mind is the only source of happiness, and 
consequently, " if one nutters in brocade," and moves amidst the 
refinements of society, and another is clad in homely attire and 
occupies the sequestered valley or the recesses of the forest, it is 
not certain that this variety of external circumstances furnishes an 
equal variety of happiness. If God has given to one the luxuries 
and the honors of life, he has given to another a meek and a quiet 
spirit. 

3. Hath not God chosen the poor of this world, rich in faith, 
and heirs of the kingdom which he hath prepared for them that 
love him ? So I thought, when in the bosom of one of those wes- 
tern wilds, (with which our infant country yet abounds,) I was 
prompted by humanity, as well as by duty, to visit the lonely 
dwelling of a poor afflicted widow. The path that leads to this 
cottage is over a mountain and through a forest which has never 
echoed to the axe of the husbandman. 

4. As I climbed the toilsome way, I asked myself, what unhap- 
py beings, rent from the bosom of society, have chosen to bury 
their bones in this noiseless retreat. I had not imagined that I 
should find so lovely a being as I have named, " The Lily of the 
Mountain." As I advanced, a little opening presented the cottage, 
sending up its solitary wreaths of smoke. There is a charm when 
one first emerges from the bosom of the wilderness, and catches 
the smoke of a dwelling, and hears the barking of the jealous 



460 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

watch-dog, which can not be described, and which can be realized 
only by experience. 

5. I had now reached the cottage, and stooped to gain admis- 
sion through the humble door. The building consisted of a pile 
of logs, unceremoniously rolled together in the form of a dwelling, 
and supporting with more than the strength of Gothic architecture 
the half thatched roof. 

G. On a mat, near the door, lay a son, the support of declining 
age, with a foot half amputated by an unfortunate blow from the 
axe. The wound had been dressed by an empiric of the neighbor- 
ing settlement ; and the patient, left to the care of his widowed 
mother, was perusing a much worn tract. Near by, upon the only 
couch, lay the interesting form which constitutes the subject of my 
narrative. The victim of consumption, she resembled, indeed, the 
beautiful, but fading lily. 

7. Confined from the sun and air, her complexion had assumed 
a delicate whiteness, and the slow, wasting fever had tinged her 
cheeks with a most "beautiful color. Her disease had reached that 
state in its progress which gives a transparency to the skin, and 
throws around the female form the loveliness of an angel, awaken- 
ing those mingled emotions which I shall not attempt to describe, 
and which excite the earnest prayer that death, having rendered 
his victim so pensively beautiful, may relinquish his purpose. 

8. With indescribable feelings I drew near the couch of this in- 
teresting sufferer. Her expressive eyes spoke of happier days, and 
her raven tresses, that lay dishevelled on her pillow, seemed to 
whisper, that had this flower, thus 



-born to blush unseen, 



And waste its sweetness on the desert air," 

been transplanted to the parterre, it might have surpassed in beauty 
and fragrance its sister flowers. 

9. But I was anxious to learn the approaching destiny of the 
spirit that animated this form of loveliness. Do you feel that God 
is just in bringing upon you such great afflictions ? " I am not 
afflicted, and if I were, God is just." But you are unhappy to lie 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 461 

in this wretched condition. " I am not unhappy ; it is better to be 
as I am now, than as I was once ; for then I thought too much of 
the world." 

10. If then you are happy, and reconciled to your condition, 
you must have found something more than the happiness of this 
world. " I have that which the world can not give." Have you 
no hope of recovery ? " I have no wish to recover." Have you 
no fear of death ? "I am not afraid to die, God is so good that I 
am safe with him." Yes, God is good, but we are wicked. " O 
yes, (clasping her emaciated hands,) I have been so wicked that I 
do not suffer half as much as I deserve, but Christ is merciful." 

11. Have you no fears that you may be deceived ? "No fears 
now ; perfect love casteth out fear." Are you not sometimes in 
darkness, when you are in great pain ? " I do not think of pain ; 
I am happy, and shall soon go home." There was an affecting 
artlessness in all she said which I can not describe, and a prompt- 
ness which beautifully illustrated the inspired truth, that out of 
the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh. 

12. I found myself in the presence of one who had learned 
much in the school of Christ, and who seemed just spreading her 
wings for the mansions of rest. Consolation, instruction, sym- 
pathy, she needed none, for she had already passed within the 
veil. I remained silently admiring the pure influence of Chris- 
tianity, while religion herself seemed to stand bending over her 
child in all the loveliness with which inspiration has arrayed. This 
child of affliction, for such, without her permission, I must call her, 
had for two years indulged the Christian hope. 

13. No ambassador of Christ had been there to lead her within 
the enclosure of the Church ; no pious visitant had entered the 
humble dwelling, to impart the bliss of Christian fellowship. But 
ministering angels had descended, and she had learned of the 
Father. Resigned to the lot of humanity, and supported by that 
faith which is the " substance of things hoped for, and the evidence 
of things not seen," she had bid adieu to the world, and was wait- 
ing to be called to the abodes of the blessed. 

14. The widowed mother, too, could plead the promise made to 



462 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

the widow and the fatherless. Having commended to the great 
Shepherd this little group of afflicted, secluded beings, and bade 
them adieu for ever, as I silently retraced my steps to the more 
busy scenes of life ; I indulged the train of reflections suggested by 
the scene I had witnessed. The impression which it stamped in- 
delibly upon my mind, I need not describe. There is still a fresh- 
ness in the scene, (for I am relating facts,) which can be lost only 
with the power of recollection. 

15. The reader, when he is assured that the page he peruses 
contains no fiction, will make his own reflections, and he will be 
impressed with the truth that true happiness is found in the hum- 
bler as in the more elevated walks of life. The gay and beauti- 
ful, whose attention is devoted to the walks of pleasure, while they 
pity this afflicted sister of the wilderness, will feel the importance 
of seeking that religion which supported her in the hour of afflic- 
tion, and which constituted the loveliness of her character. 

16. The pious fair, too, who in their sphere of benevolence re- 
semble angels of mercy, will not in their " walks of usefulness" for- 
get the cottage of the poor. The cottage scene will afford to the 
benevolent mind a happiness far superior to a visit in the halls of 
a palace. I love to recur, in my lonely meditations, to " the lodge 
in the wilderness ;" and, I would rather visit the solitary grave of 
this departed saint, (for, she now sleeps beneath the shade of the 
adjacent forest,) and read her rudely sculptured name, than gaze 
upon the " storied urn and animated bust" of the proudest hero. 



LESSON CLXXXIX. 

HOW PAIN CAN BE A CAUSE OF DELIGHT. BURKE. 

1. Providence has so ordered it, that a state of rest and inac- 
tion, however it may flatter our indolence, should be productive of 
many inconveniences ; that it should generate such disorders, as 
may force us to have recourse to some labor, as a thing absolutely 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 463 

requisite to make us pass our lives with tolerable satisfaction ; for, 
the nature of rest is to suffer all the parts of our bodies to fall into 
a relaxation, that not only disables the members from performing 
their functions, but takes away the vigorous tone of fibre which is 
requisite for carrying on the natural and necessary secretions. 

2. At the same time, that, in this languid, inactive state, the 
nerves are more liable to the most horrid convulsions, than when 
they are sufficiently braced and strengthened. Melancholy, dejec- 
tion, and despair, is the consequence of the gloomy view we take 
of things in this relaxed state of the body. 

3. The best remedy for all these evils is exercise or labor ; and 
labor is a surmounting of difficulties, an exertion of the contracting 
power of the muscles ; and as such, resembles pain, which consists 
in tension or contraction, in every thing but degree. 

4. Labor is not only requisite to preserve the coarser organs in 
a state fit for their functions ; but it is equally necessary to these 
finer and more delicate organs, on which, and by which, the 
imagination and perhaps the other mental powers act. 

5. Now, as a due exercise is essential to the coarse muscular 
parts of the constitution, and that without this rousing they would 
become languid and diseased, the very same rule holds with regard 
to those finer parts we have mentioned ; to have them in proper 
order, they must be shaken and worked to a proper degree. 



LESSON CXC. 

DIVISION OF LABOR. ADAM SMITH. 

1. Observe the accommodation of the most common artificer or 
day-laborer in a civilized country, and you will perceive that the num- 
ber of people, whose industry has been employed in procuring him 
this accommodation, exceeds all computation. The woollen coat, 
for example, which covers him, coarse and rough as it may appear, 
is the produce of the joint labor of a great multitude of workmen. 



464 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

2. The shepherd, the sorter of wool, the w< <ol-comber, the dyer, the 
spinner, the weaver, the fuller, with many others, must all join their 
different arts, in order to complete even this homely production. 
How many merchant- and carriers besides must have been employed 
in transporting the materials from some of those workmen to others ! 
How much commerce and navigation in particular; how many 
ship-builders, sail-makers, rope-makers, must have been employed 
in order to bring together the different drugs made use of by the 
dyer, which often come from the remotest c irnen of the world ! 

3. What a variety of labor, too, is necessary in order to produce 
the tools of the meanest of these workmen '. To say nothing of 
such complicated machines as the ship of the sailor, the mill of the 
fuller, or even the loom of the weaver, let us consider only what a 
variety of labor is requisite in order to form that very simple 
machine, the shears with which the shepherd clips the wool. The 
miner, the builder of the furnace for smelting the ore, the feller of 
the timber, the burner of the charcoal to be made use of in the 
smelting-house, the brick-maker, the brick-layer, the workmen who 
attend the furnace, the millwright, the forger, the smith, mu>t all 
of them join their different arts in order to produce them. 

4. Were we to examine, in the tame manner, all the different 
parts of his dress and household furniture ; the coarse linen shirt 
which he wears next his skin, the shoes which cover his feet, the 
bed on which he lies, and all the different parts which compose it, 
the kitchen-grate at which he prepares his victuals, the coals which 
he makes use of for that purpose, dug from the bowels of the earth, 
and brought to him, perhaps, by a long sea and a long land car- 
riage : 

5. All the other utensils of his kitchen, all the furniture of his 
table, the knives and forks, the earthen or pewter plates upon 
which he serves up and divides his victuals, the different hands 
employed in preparing his bread and his beer, the glass window 
which lets in the heat and the light, and keeps out the wind and 
the rain, with all the knowledge and art requisite for preparing 
that beautiful and happy invention, without which these northern 
parts of the world could scarce have afforded a \ery comfortable 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 465 

habitation, together with the tools of all the different workmen 
employed in producing those different conveniences : 

6. If we examine all those things, and consider what a variety 
of labor is employed about each of them, we shall be sensible, 
that, without the assistance and co-operation of many thousands, 
the very meanest person in a civilized country could not be pro- 
vided, even according to, what we very falsely imagine, the easy 
and simple manner in which he is usually accommodated. - 



LESSON CXCI. 

JEPHTHAH'S DAUGHTER. N. P. WILLIS. 

1. She stood before her father's gorgeous tent, 
To listen for his coming. 

I have thought, 
A brother's and a sister's love was much. 
I know a brother's is, for I have loved 
A trusting sister ; and I know how broke 
The heart may be with its own tenderness. 
But the affection of a delicate child 
For a fond father, gushing as it does 
With the sweet springs of life, and living on 
Through all earth's changes, 
Must be holier ! 

2. The wind bore on 
The leaden tramp of thousands. Clarion notes 
Rang sharply on the ear at intervals ; 

And the low, mingled din of mighty hosts, 
Returning from the battle, poured from far, 
Like the deep murmur of a restless sea. 

3. Jephthah led his warriors on 
Through Mizpeh's streets. His helm was proudly set, 

20* 



466 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

And his stern lip curled slightly, as if praise 
Were for the hero's scorn. Jlis step was firm, 
But free as India's leopard ; and his mail, 
Whose shekels none in Israel might bear, 
Was lighter than a tassel on his frame. 
His crest irai .ludah's kingliest, and the look 
Of his dark, lofty eye 
Might quell a lion. 

4. He led on ; but thoughts 
Seemed gathering round which troubled him. The veins 
Upon his forehead were distinctly teen ; 

And his proud lip was painfully compressed 

He trod less firmly ; and his restless i 

Glanced forward frequently, as if some ill 

He dared not meet, were there. His home was near ; 

And men w T eie thronging, with that strong delight 

They have in human passions, u> observe 

The struggle of his feelings with his pride. 

He gazed intensely forward. 

5. A moment more, 

And he had reached his home ; when lo ! there sprang 

One with a bounding footstep, and a brow 

Like light, to meet him. Oh ! how beautiful ! 

Her dark eye flashing like a sun-lit gem, 

And her luxuriant hair, 'twas like the sweep 

Of a swift wing in visions. He stood still, 

As if the sight had withered him. She threw 

Her arms about his neck ; he heeded not. 

She called him " Father," but he answered not. 

She stood and gazed upon him. Was he wroth ? 

There was no anger in that blood-shot eye. 

Had sickness seized him ? She unclasped his helm, 

And laid her white hand gently on his brow. 

The touch aroused him. 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 467 

6. He raised up his hands, 

And spoke the name of God in agony. 
She knew that he was stricken then, and rushed 
Again into his arms, and with a flood 
Of tears she could not stay, she sobbed a prayer 
That he would tell her of his wretchedness. 
He told her, and a momentary flush. 
Shot o'er her countenance : and then, the soul 
Of Jephthah's daughter wakened, and she stood 
Calmly and nobly up, and said, " 'Tis well, 
And I will die !" 

And when the sun had set, 
Then she was dead, but not by violence. 



LESSON CXCIL 



EXTRACTS FROM AN ADDRESS ON RETIRING FROM THE PUBLIC 

SERVICE OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. GEORGE 

WASHINGTON. 

1. In looking forward to the moment wbich is intended to ter- 
minate the career of my public life, my feelings do not permit me 
to suspend the deep acknowledgment of that debt of gratitude, 
which I owe to my beloved country, for the many honors it has 
conferred upon- me ; still more for the steadfast confidence with, 
which it has supported me ; and for the opportunities I have thence 
enjoyed of manifesting my inviolable attachment, by sendees faith- 
ful and persevering, though in usefulness unequal to my zeal. 

2. If benefits have resulted to our country from these services, 
let it always be remembered to your praise, as an instructive ex- 
ample in our annals, that, under circumstances in which the 
passions, agitated in every direction, were liable to mislead, amidst 
appearances somewhat dubious, vicissitudes of fortune often dis- 
couraging, in situations in which not unfrequently want of success 



468 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

has countenanced the spirit of criticism ; the constancy of your sup- 
port was the essential prop of the < i a guarantee of the 
plana, by which they were effected. 

3. Profoundly penetrated with thii idea, I shall cany it with 
me to my grave, as a strong incitement to unceasing prayers, that 
Heaven ma} continue to you the choicest tokens of its beneficence ; 
that your union and brotherly affection may be perpetual ; that the 
free constitution, which is the work of your hands, may be sat 
maintained; that its administration, in every department^ may be 
Btamped with wisdom and virtue; that, in fine, the happin< 

the people of these States, under the auspia - of liberty, may be 
made completely so careful a preservation, and so prudeota use, 
of this blessing, as will acquire to them the glorj of recommending 
it to the applause, the .affection, and adoption, of every nation 
which is yet a stranger to it. 

4. Here, perhaps, I ought to stop. But a solicitude for your 
welfare, which can not end but with my life, and the apprehension 
of danger, natural to that solicitude, urge me, on an occasion like 
the present, to offer to your solum contemplation, and to recom- 
mend to your frequent review, some sentiments, which are the 
result of much reflection, of no inconsiderable observation, and 
which appear to me all-important to the permanence of your 
felicity as a people. These will be offered to you with the more 
freedom, as you can only see in them the disinterested warnings of a 
parting friend, who can possibly have no motive to bias his counsel. 
Nor can I forget, as an encouragement to it, your indulgent recep- 
tion of my sentiments on a former, and not dissimilar occasion. 

5. Of all the dispositions and habits which lead to political 
prosperity, religion and morality are indispensable supports. In 
vain would that man claim the tribute of patriotism, who should 
labor to subvert these great pillars of human happiness; these 
firmest props of the duties of men and citizens. The mere politician, 
equally with the pious man, ought to respect and to cherish them. 
A volume could not trace all their connexions with private and 
public felicity. 

6. Let it simply be asked, Where is the security for property, 



COBB'S SPEAKEE. 469 

for reputation, for life, if the sense of religious obligation desert the 
oaths, which are the instruments of investigation in courts of jus- 
tice ? And let us with caution indulge the supposition, that 
morality can be maintained without religion. Whatever may be 
conceded to the influence of refined education, on minds of peculiar 
structure, reason and experience both forbid us to expect that 
national morality can prevail, in exclusion of religious principles. 

7. It is substantially true, that virtue or morality is a necessary 
spring of popular government. The rule, indeed, extends with 
more or less force to every species of free government. Who, that 
is a sincere friend to it, can look with indifference upon attempts 
to shake the foundation of the fabric ? 

8. Promote, then, as an object of primary importance, institu- 
tions for the general diffusion of knowledge. In proportion as the 
structure of a government gives force to public opinion, it is essen- 
tial that public opinion should be enlightened. 

9. Observe good faith and justice towards all nations ; cultivate 
peace and harmony with all ; religion and morality enjoin this con- 
duct ; and can it be that good policy does not equally enjoin it ? 
It will be worthy of a free, enlightened, and, at no distant period 
a great nation, to give to mankind the magnanimous and too novel 
example of a people always guided by an exalted justice and 
benevolence. 

10. Who can doubt, that, in the course of time and things, the 
fruits of such a plan would richly repay any temporary advantages, 
which might be lost by a steady adherence to it ? Can it be, that 
Providence has not connected the permanent felicity of a nation 
with its virtue ? The experiment, at least, is recommended by 
every sentiment which ennobles human nature. Alas ! is it ren- 
dered impossible by its vices ? 

11. In offering to you, my countrymen, these counsels of an old 
and affectionate friend, I dare not hope they will make the strong 
and lasting impression I could wish ; that they will control the 
usual current of the passions, or prevent our nation from running 
the course which has hitherto marked the destiny of empires. But 
if I may even flatter myself, that they may be productive of some 



470 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

partial benefit, some occasional good ; thai they may now and (lion 
recur, to moderate the fury of party spirit, to warn against the 
mischiefs of foreign intrigue, to guard against the impottnn 
pretended patriotism : this hope will be a full recompense fur that 
solicitude for your welfare, by which they have been dedicated 

12. How far, in the discharge of my official duties, I have been 
guided by the principles which have been delineated, the public 
records and other evidences of my conduct must witness to you and 
the world. To myself, the assurance of my own conscience is, that 
I have, at least, believed myself to be guided by them. 

13. Though, in reviewing the incidents of my administration, I 
am unconscious of intentional error, I am, nevertheless, too sensible 
of my defects not to think it probable that I may have committed 
many errors. Whatever they may be, I fervc-ntlv beseech the 
Almighty to avert and mitigate the evils to which they may tend. 
1 shall also carry with me the hope that my country will never 
cease to view them with indulgence ; and that, after forty-five 
years of my life dedicated to its service with an upright zeal, the 
faults of incompetent abilities will be consigned to oblivion, as my- 
self must soon be to the mansions of rest. 

14. Relying on its kindness in this, as in other things, and ac- 
tuated by that fervent love towards it, which is so natural to a man 
who views in it the native soil of himself and his progenitors for 
several generations, I anticipate with pleasing expectation that re- 
treat, in which I promise myself to realize, without alloy, the 
sweet enjoyment of partaking, in the midst of my fellow-citizens, 
the benign influence of good laws under a free government, the 
ever favorite object of my heart, and the happy reward, as I trust, 
of our mutual cares, labors, and dangers. 



LESSON CXCIII. 

THE MAMMOTH CAVE OF KENTUCKY. CONCLIn's NEW RIVER GUIDE. 

1. The Mammoth Cave is one of the most stupendous wonders 
of nature that has ever yet been discovered. It is situated in Ed- 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 471 

monson county, Kentucky, eqni-distant from the cities of Louis- 
ville and Nashville, about ninety miles from each, and immedi- 
ately on the nearest road between those two places. It is within 
half a mile of Green River. A full description of its many avenues 
and wonderful recesses, rivers, &c, may be found in a work pub- 
lished in Louisville, to which I would refer all who may wish to 
learn more of this great curiosity than space can be afforded for 
in this work. 

2. The cave has already been explored for more than eighteen 
miles, and it is supposed that even this is but scarcely on the thresh- 
old of its vast extent. It contains two hundred and twenty-six 
avenues, forty-seven domes, eight cataracts, several rivers, and 
twenty-three pits, most of them of surprising beauty and startling 
grandeur. It is visited by great numbers of visiters, and fine ac- 
commodations have been made for them, in a magnificent hotel ; 
where every facility of guides, &c., can be obtained to explore the 
cave. I extract some brief descriptions of it from the work al- 
ready referred to, hoping that the readers will obtain it and satisfy 
themselves with a more extended description : 

3. " For a distance of two miles from the cave, as you approach 
it from the southeast, the country is level. It was, until recently, a 
prairie, on which, however, the oak, chestnut, and hickory are now 
growing." " The hotel is a large edifice, two hundred feet long 
by forty wide, with piazzas extending the length of the building 
above and below." " The cave is about two hundred yards from 
the hotel, and you proceed to it down a lovely and romantic dell, 
rendered umbrageous by a forest of trees and grape-vines ; and, 
passing by the ruins of saltpetre furnaces, and large mounds of 
ashes, you turn abruptly to the light and behold the mouth of the 
great cavern, and as suddenly feel the coldness of the air. It is an 
appalling spectacle ; how dark, how dismal, how dreary ! 

4. "Descending some thirty feet, down rather rude steps of 
stone, you are fairly under the arch of this ' nether world ;' before 
you, in looking outward, is seen a small stream of water falling 
from the face of a crowning rock, with a wild, pattering sound, 
upon the ruins below, and disappearing in a deep pit ; behind 



472 COBB'S SPEAKER, 

you, all is gloom and darkness ! Obtaining a lamp from the 
guide, you follow him in a descending course for about a hundred 
feet, when tin- passage is intercepted by ;i rough stou* wall, the 
entrance to which is closed by ;i gate. Thia being opened, w 

strong is the current of air, tliat the lights are almosl inatanta- 
neously extinguished 

■• Relighting the lamp-, the visiter then proceeds to the great 
vestibule, or ante-chamber, two hundred feet in length by one hun- 
dred and fifty wide, with a roof which is as flat and level as it' 
finished by the trowel of the plasterer, of fifty or sixty, or even 
more, feet in height Two passages, each a hundred feet in width, 
open into it at opposite extremities," lw Passing on, you come to 
the Great Bat Boom, or Audubon's Avenue. Bere the workmen 
who were engaged in 1811 in manufacturing saltpetre, disinterred 
many skeletons of human beings, which seem to have belonged 
t<> a giant race. Audubon's Avenue is mure than a mile long, 
fifty or sixty feet wide, ami of about the same height 

C. u Passing the Little Bat R n, a branch of ibis avenue, you 

enter the Main Cave, or Grand Gallery, a vast tunnel extending 
for miles, having a width and height of fifty feet Passing down 
this, little over a quarter of a mile, you enter the Church, where 
religious services have often been performed. It is about one hun- 
dred feet in diameter, with a ceiling sixty-three feet high, having a 
solid projection of the wall about fifteen feet from the floor, serving 
as a pulpit, and back of it a place for an organ and choir. Pro- 
ceeding a short distance, you arrive at the Second Hoppers, where 
are to be seen the remains of the saltpetre manufactories, of which 
the dirt of the cave yields such immense quantities. During the 
war of 1814, in one year, the contract for saltpetre from this cave 
amounted to twenty thousand dollars. 

7. "Proceeding along, you pass through the Gothic Gallery, 
Gothic Avenue, so named from their architectural shape. The 
avenue is two miles long, about forty feet wide and fifteen high. 
About fifty feet from the head of the stairs leading from the main 
avenue, two mummies were found in 1813, in a fine state of pres- 
ervation. One of them was a female, with her wardrobe and or- 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 473 

naments placed at her side. The body was in a perfect state of 
preservation, and sitting erect. The arms were folded, and the 
hands laid across the bosom. Around the wrists was wound a 
small cord, designed, probably, to keep them in the posture in 
which they were first placed. 

8. u Around the body and neck, there were wrapped two deer- 
skins. These skins appear to have been dressed in some mode 
different from what is now practised by any people of whom we 
have any knowledge. The hair of these skins was cut off very 
near the surface, and they were ornamented with the imprints of 
vines and leaves, which were sketched with a substance perfectly 
white. Outside of these two skins was a large square sheet, which 
was either woven or knit. The fabric was of the inner bark of a 
tree, resembling the South Sea Island cloth or matting." The 
body was about five feet ten inches in length, and weighed but 
fourteen pounds. At its side lay a pair of moccasins, a knapsack 
and reticule, all made very neatly of knit or woven bark. Other 
articles of apparel were found in the knapsack, which evinced 
great skill in their manufacture. 

9. Proceeding on, you pass the Stalagmite Hall, or Gothic 
Chapel, which " forcibly reminds one of the old cathedrals of Eu- 
rope." A large number of beautiful chambers follow, which have 
appropriate names, and are all matters of great curiosity, but which 
we have not space to mention. The Star Chamber, farther on, 
" presents the most perfect optical illusion imaginable. In look- 
ing up to the ceiling, which is very high, you seem to see the very 
firmament itself, studded with stars, and afar off a comet with its 
long bright tail." 

10. Farther on is the chief city or Temple, which is thus de- 
scribed by Lee, in his " Xotes on the Mammoth Cave :" " The 
Temple is an immense vault, covering an area of two acres, and 
covered by a single dome of solid rock, one hundred and twenty 
feet high. It excels in size the Cave of Staffa ; and rivals the cele- 
brated vault in the Grotto of Antiparos, which is said to be the 
largest in the world." * * "Every one has heard of the dome 
of the Mosque of St. Sophia, of St. Peter's, and St. Paul's ; they 



474 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

are never spoken of but in terms of admiration, as the chief works 
of architecture, and among the noblest and most stupendous exam- 
ples of what man can do, when aided by science ; and yet, when 
compared with the dome of this Temple, they sink into compara- 
tive insignificance. 

11." Such is the surpassing grandeur of Nature's works." There 
is also the Great Dome, four hundred feet high, with a waterfall 
from its summit ; the River Hall, the ceiling of which " stretches 
away before you, vast and grand as the firmament at midnight ;" 
the Dead Sea and River Styx, which seem to answer well their 
names, and the Echo, a river " wide and deep enough to float the 
largest steamer." In these rivers are found the remarkable eyeless 
fish, having not the least indication of an eye, or any organ simi- 
lar to it. 

12. Four miles beyond the Echo, is Cleveland's Avenue, after 
entering which you may ascend a steep and rugged hill about 
twenty feet high, and find yourself at the Chapel of the Holy 
Sepulchre, about twelve feet square, decorated with stalactite in 
a most beautiful manner. A passage conducts into a room a few 
feet below the chapel, in which stands a grave, having the ap- 
pearance of having been hewn out of a living rock. Cleveland's 
Avenue is three miles long, and adorned with most beautiful for- 
mations of crystals. 

13. There are many other places of great interest, and which 
strike the beholder with admiration and awe. The cave is dry, 
and exceedingly conducive to health. It is visited by many in- 
valids, for the purpose of inhaling its air ; and, in many instances, 
proves highly beneficial. It should be visited by all who can do 
so, for the purpose of witnessing one of the most sublime and gi- 
gantic works of nature to be seen in any country. 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 475 

LESSON CXCIV. 



1. Friends, 

I come not here to talk. Ye know too well 
The story of our thralldom. We are slaves ! 
The bright sun rises to his course, and lights 
A race of slaves ! He sets, and his last beam 
Falls on a slave ; not such as, swept along 
By the full tide of power, the conqueror led 
To crimson glory and undying fame ; 
But base, ignoble slaves ; slaves to a horde 
Of petty tyrants, feudal despots ! lords 
Rich in some dozen paltry villages ; 
Strong in some hundred spearmen ; only great 
In that strange spell ; a name. 

2. Each hour, dark fraud, 
Or open rapine, or protected murder, 

Cries out against them. But this very day, 
An honest man, my neighbor ; there he stands, 
Was struck, struck like a dog, by one who wore 
The badge of Ursini ; because, forsooth, 
He tossed not high his ready cap in air, 
Nor lifted up his voice in servile shouts, 
At sight of that great ruffian. Be we men, 
And suffer such dishonor ; men, and wash not 
The stain away in blood ? Such shames are common 
I have known deeper wrongs. 

3. I, that speak to ye, 
I had a brother once ; a gracious boy, 
Full of all gentleness, of calmest hope, 

Of sweet and quiet joy : " there was the look 
Of heaven upon his face, which limners give 
To the beloved disciple." How I loved 



476 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

That gracious boy ! Founger by fifteen years, 
Brother, at once, and son ! " He left my side, 
A summer bloom on his fair cheeks, a -mile 
Parting his innocent lips." In one short hour 
The pretty, harmless boy was slain ! I saw 
The corse, the mangled corse, and then I cried 
For vengeance, 

4. Rouse, ye Romans ! Rouse, ye slaves ! 

Have ye brave sons I Look in the next fierce brawl 
To see them die Save ye fair daughters \ Look 
To see them live, torn from your arms, distained, 
Dishonored : and, if ye dare call for justice, 
Be answered by the lash. Vet this is Rome, 
That sat on her seven hills, and, from her throne 
Of beauty, ruled the world ! Yet we are Romans ! 
Why, in that elder day, to be a Roman 
Was greater than a king ! And once again ; 
Hear me, ye walls, that echoed to the tread 
Of either Brutus ! once again, I swear, 
The eternal city shall be free ; her sons 
Shall walk with princes. 



LESSON CXCV. 

MORNING IN SPRING. GEORGE D. PRENTICE. 

How sweet the landscape ! Morning twines 

Her tresses round the brow of Day, 
And bright mists, o'er the forest pines, 

Like happy spirits, float away 
To revel on the mountain's crown, 
Whence the glad stream comes shouting down, 
Through woods and rocks, that hang on high, 
Like clouds against the deep blue sky. 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 477 



2. The woven sounds of bird and stream 

Are falling beautiful and deep 
Upon the spirit, like a dream 

Of music on the hour of sleep ; 
And gently from the dewy bowers 
Soft murmurs, like the breath of flowers, 
Are winding through the purple grove, 
And blending with the notes of Love. 

3. The streams in veins of silver flow ; 

The sunrise gale o'er flower and tree 
So lightly breathes, it scarce would blow 

A fairy bark upon the sea ; 
It comes so fresh, so calm, so sweet, 
It draws the heart from its retreat, 
To mingle in the glories, born 
In the first holy light of morn. 

4. A cloud is on the sky above ; 

And calmly, o'er the young year blue, 
'Tis coming like a thing of love 

To gladden in the rising dew : 
Its white waves with the sunlight blend, 
And gentle spirits seem to bend 
From its unrolling folds, to hear 
The glad sounds of our joyous sphere. . 

5. The lake, unruffled by the breeze, 

Smiles in its deep, unbroken rest, 
As it were dreaming of the trees 

And blossoms pictured on its breast ; 
Its depths are glowing, bright, and fair, 
And the far skies seem hollowed there, 
Soft trembling, as they felt the thrill 
Of music echoed from the hill. 



478 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

6. The living soul of beauty fills 

The air with glorious visions ; bright 
They linger round the sunny hills, 

And wander in the clear blue light ; 
Off to the breathing heavens they go, 
Along the earth they live and glow, 
Shed o'er the lake their happy smiles, 
And beckon to its glittering isles. 

7. O, at this hour, when ail and earth 

Are gushing love, and joy, and light, 
And songs of gladness, at the birth 

Of all that's beautiful and bright ; 
Each heart beats high ; each thought is blown 
To flame ; the spirit drinks the tone 
Of brighter worlds, and melts away 
In visions of eternal day. 



LESSON CXCVI. 

THE DYING CHRISTIAN TO HIS SOUL. POPE. 

1. Vital spark of heavenly flame, 
Quit, quit this mortal frame : 
Trembling, hoping, lingering, flying, 
O, the pain, the bliss, of dying ! 
Cease, fond nature, cease thy strife, 
And let me languish into life. 

2. Hark ! they whisper ; angels say, 
" Sister spirit, come away !" 
What is this absorbs me quite ? 
Steals my senses, shuts my sight, 
Drowns my spirit, draws my breath? 
Tell me, my soul, can this be death ? 



COBB'S SPEAKER 479 

3. The world recedes ; it disappears ; 
Heaven opens on my eyes ; my ears 
With sounds seraphic ring : 
Lend, lend yonr wings ! I mount ! I fly ! 
" O Grave, where is thy victory ? 
O Death, where is thy sting ?" 



LESSOR CXOVIL 



GENIUS. FANNY FORRESTER. 



1. Genius seems to be confined to no soil, no government, no 
age or nation, and no rank in society. When men lived in wan- 
dering tribes, and could boast no literature, the bright flame burnt 
among them, although wild and often deadly its ray ; and the foot 
of oppression, which crushes all else, has failed to extinguish it. 

2. Hence it has rashly been inferred that this peculiar gift, pos- 
sessed by the favored few, may be perfected without any exertion 
on their part, and is subject to none of the rules which, in all 
other cases, govern intellect ; but that, uncontrolled and uncon- 
trollable, it must burst forth when and where it will, and be burnt 
up in the blaze of its own glory, leaving but the halo of its former 
brightness upon the historic page. 

3. This inference, however, is alike erroneous and dangerous. 
Though genius be an unsought gift ; a peculiar emanation from 
the Divine Mind, it was not originally intended as a glorious curse, 
to crush the spirit which it elevates. 

4. Perchance, the pent-up stream within the soul must find an 
avenue ; but he who bears the gift may choose that avenue ; may 
direct, control^ and divert ; he may scatter the living waters on a 
thousand objects, or pour their whole force upon one; he may 
calm and purify them, by this means rendering them none the less 
deep, or he may allow them to dash and foam, until however they 
sparkle, the dark sediments of vice and misery, thus made to 
mingle, may be found in every gem. 



480 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

5. Let us turn to the oft-quoted name of Byron ; a name that 
can scarcely be mentioned by the admirers of genius, without a 
thrill of pain. Byron, like his own archangel, mined, guiding a 
fallen son of clay in his search after mysteries, has delved among 
hidden treasures, and spread before us the richest gems of Helicon j 
but scarce one of these but is dark in its glory, and, although with 
all the fire of heaven-born poesy, sends forth a mingled and dan- 
gerous ray. 

G. But had a mother whispered her pious counsels in his ear 
during boyhood ; had a friendly finger pointed out a nobler re- 
venge when that first cutting satire was penned ; and had a better, 
a holier sentiment than the mean passion of revenge urged him on 
to action, ami governed his after aspirations, think you that the 
archangel of earth would have stood less glorious \ No; Byron's 
spirit had a self-rectifying power, and he could have used it, but 
he did not ; and, although he has well won the laurel, a poison 
more bitter than death is dropping from every leaf. 

V. The common mind, never tempted, may wonder at the way- 
wardness of genius, and despise the weakness of its possessor ; and 
the generous one that sees the struggle and mourns the wreck, 
may pity and apologize ; and both are in some degree right. 
While we admire and pity, we must wonder at the weakness of 
the strength that, subdued all else, faded beneath its own weight. 

8. We know that the gifted ones of earth have stronger pas- 
sions, more irresistible wills, and quicker and more dangerous im- 
pulses than other men ; and, for this very reason, should they cul- 
tivate more assiduously the noble powers by which these passions 
and impulses are governed. Each individual possesses them ; but 
they "must be cultivated ! 

9. It is our conception of the mysteries of this gift which leads 
us to look back with such peculiar interest upon the infancy of a 
man of genius, expecting there to discover at least some flashes of 
the Divine ray which lighted up his after life. The dusty memories 
of nurses and village oracles are ransacked for anecdotes, which 
oftentimes neither the additions suggested by pride and partial af- 
fection, nor the transforming medium of the past, through which 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 481 

they are viewed, can swell into any thing like superiority to the 
sayings and doings of other children. 

10. He who will watch an intelligent child through one day, 
will be astonished at the bright flashes of untaught intellect which, 
could they be abstracted from childish notions in which they are 
almost entirely buried, would be thought, by any but him who 
found them in such amusing vicinity, the sure precursors of great- 
ness. 

11. True, real genius often shows itself in childhood; but that 
it always does, or that such a development is desirable, may be 
seriously questioned. The child who writes verses at six, or gives 
other indications of genius surpassing his years, may be wondered 
at and admired as a prodigy ; but the parent ought to tremble on 
observing the premature fruit bursting through the petals of the 
not yet unfolded bud. 

12. There is an evidence of disease in this, which, in one way or 
another, almost always proves fatal. This unnatural power wears 
out itself, or the frame of its possessor : either the mind or the 
body must fail under such a rapid development. 

13. The village pedagogue, in his old age, may look about him 
wonderingly ; for, it is not unlikely that the least promising of all 
his flock takes the highest stand, while his bright, ever-ready 
favorite, that he was sure would become a great man, does not rise 
above mediocrity. There is nothing strange or capricious in this. 
It is the sure result of natural causes, and has its counterpart in all 
the works of Nature, even in the human frame. 

14. Rapid growth produces weakness in the bones and sinews ; 
and, in some cases, this growth has been so rapid as to become an 
actual disease, and carry its victim to the grave. Many are the in- 
stances of intellectual development, so rapid as to weaken the mind, 
and sink it even below mediocrity ; or, on the other hand, to produce 
premature death. For examples of this last result, we must not go 
to the tombs of the early dead or of the old world ; nor is it neces- 
sary to visit the banks of the Saranac, where drooped the fairest 
buds* that ever shed the fragrance of heaven upon earth. 

* Lucretia Maria and Margaret Davidson. 
21 



482 , COBB'S SPEAKER. 

15. We can find them in our own midst Many are the gifted 
little beings, who, after basking in the sunshine and rejoicing 
among the flowers of a few short summers, pass away all unknown 
to the world, leaving only the frail memorials of their early genius 
to sooth, yet Badden even in the moment of soothing, the hearts 
that cherished theiXL 

1G. The mind, when it first becomes conscious of its own capa- 
bilities, puts DO limits to them, and will only be urged onward by 
each barrier thrown in its way; but a judicious hand may direct 
its course, calm its turbulence, sooth its sensitiveness, and teach it 
to be it> own supporter, without endangering in the least de 
its freshness and originality. 



LESSON CXCVIII. 

EVENING. LIBRARY OF ENTERTAINING KNOWLEDGE. 

1. The effulgence of the sun is no longer witnessed: his last 
rays have tinged the verdant laud-cape; and, he has now retired 
beyond the western mountains. The moon, with majestic beauty 
and brightness, maintains her ceaseless course, and guides the 
wanderer to his home. The twinkling stars, decorating the canopy 
above, and sparkling with undiminished splendor, speak forth the 
wisdom of the great Original. 

2. All nature breathes a solemn adieu to the departing day : 
silence pervades the earth ; and intelligent beings may now pause 
to contemplate, with those hallowed feelings which the auspicious 
period inspires, the glories of their Creator, the wisdom and beauty 
of all his works. 

3. This sacred hour is peculiarly adapted to awaken feelings of 
gratitude ; to inspire the heart with holy love ; to animate our 
hopes, and guide to virtue. Man is the only intelligent creature 
that inhabits the globe ; the only being who can admire and love 
his Creator. How exalted his rank ! how noble his existence ! 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 483 

4. There are moments in life, in which we are led to contempla- 
tion : there is a time, when the past is recalled ; when the future is 
anticipated. That time is evening ; when we sit by the burning 
taper ; or when, by moonlight, we range the fertile fields. 

" Oft have I paused, when ev'ning's silent hour 
Was fraught with beauties seemingly divine, 
To feast the soul, within her sacred bower, 
With luxuries, she seemed to say were mine." 

5. Evening outvies every other hour in time. The day has 
passed, with all its perplexities and cares ; naught presents to dis- 
turb the tranquil breast ; and we are permitted to enjoy the sacred 
sweets which memory awakens. And though it may always be 
pleasing to reflect on the past, still it is profitable. The present 
will be appreciated ; the future prepared, for. The morning and 
noon-day of life, may pass unheeded ; but the evening of existence 
will come ; and that it may beam with hope, we should improve 
life as it passes. 



LESSON CXCIX. 

SONG OF EMIGRATION. MRS. HEMANS. 

1, There was heard a song on the chiming sea, 
A mingled breathing of grief and glee ; 
Man's voice unbroken by sighs was there, 
Filling with triumph the sunny air ; 
Of fresh, green lands, and of pastures new, 
It sang, while the bark through the surges flew. 
But ever and anon 

A murmur of farewell, 
Told by its plaintive tone, 

That from woman's lip it fell. 



484 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

2. "Away, away o'er the foaming main!" 
This was the free and joyous strain ; 
"There an- dearer skies thai! ours afar, 

AW- will sha] in- coarse by a brighter star; 

There are plains whose verdure no foot hath pressed, 
And who-.- wealth is all for the firsl brave gucet 
u But alas : that ire should . 

S mg th.- farewell roioes then, 
•• From the homesteads warm and low, 
By the brook and in the glen !" 

3. l> We will rear new homes, under trees that glow 
As if gems wen- the fruitage of every bough ; 
O'er our white walls we will train the vine, 
And sit in its shadow at day's decline; 

And watch <>ur herds as they range at will 
Through the green savannas, all bright and still." 
"But wo for that sweet sha 

Of the flowering orchard- t r ee s, 
Where first our children played 
ICdst birds and honey-bees !" 

4. " All, all our own shall the forests be, 
As to the bound of the roe-buck free! 
None shall say, ' Hither, no farther pa* 

We will track each Btep through the wavy grass ; 
We will chase the elk in his speed and might, 
And bring proud spoils to the hearth at night." 
" But oh ! the gray church-tower, 

And the sound of the Sabbath-bell, 
And the sheltered garden-bower, 
We have bid them all farewell !" 

5. " We will give the names of our fearless race 
To each bright river whose course we trace ; 

We will leave our memory with mounts and floods, 
And the path of our daring, in boundless woods ; 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 485 

And our works on many a lake's green shore, 
Where the Indians' graves lay alone, before." 
" But who shall teach the flowers 

Which our children loved, to dwell 
In a soil that is not ours ? 

Home, home, and friends, farewell !" 



LESSON CC. 

THE BLIND PREACHER. WIRT. 



1. It was one Sunday, as I travelled through the county of 
Orange, that my eye was "caught by a cluster of horses tied near 
a ruinous, old, wooden house, in the forest, not far from the road- 
side. Having frequently seen such objects before, in travelling 
through these states, I had no difficulty in understanding that this 
was a place of religious worship. Devotion alone should have 
stopped me, to join in the duties of the congregation ; but I must 
confess, that curiosity to hear the preacher of such a wilderness 
was not the least of my motives. 

2. On entering, I was struck with his preternatural appearance. 
He was a tall and very spare old man. His head, which was 
covered with a white linen cap, his shrivelled hands, and his voice, 
were all shaking under the influence of a palsy; and a few 
moments ascertained to me that he was perfectly blind. 

3. The first emotions which touched my breast were those of 
mingled pity and veneration. But how soon were all my feelings 
changed ! The lips of Plato were never more worthy of a prog- 
nostic swarm of bees, than were the lips of this holy man ! It was 
the day of the administration of the sacrament ; and his subject, 
of course, was the passion of our Savior. I had heard the subject 
handled a thousand times : I had thought it exhausted long ago. 

4. Little did I suppose, that, in the wild woods of America, I was 
to meet with a man whose eloquence would give to this topic a 



486 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

new and more sublime pathos, than I had ever before witnessed. 
As he descended from the pulpit, to distribute the mystic symbols, 
there was a peculiar, a more than human solemnity in his air and 
manner, which made my blood run cold, and my whole frame 
shiver. 

5. He then drew a picture of the sufferings of our Savior ; his 
trial before Pilate ; his ascent up Calvary ; his crucifixion ; and 
his death. I knew the whole history ; but never, until then, had 
I heard the circumstances so selected, so arranged, so colored ! It 
was all new ; and I seemed to have heard it for the first time in 
my life. His enunciation was so deliberate, that his voice trembled 
on every syllable ; and every heart in the assembly trembled in 
unison. 

6. His peculiar phrases had that force of description that the 
original scene appeared to be, at that moment, acting before our 
eyes. We saw the very faces of the Jews ; the staring, frightful 
distortions of malice and rage. We saw the buffet : my soul 
kindled with a flame of indignation ; and my hands were involun- 
tarily and convulsively clinched. 

V. But when he came to touch on the patience, the forgiving 
meekness of our Saviour ; when he drew, to the life, his blessed 
eyes streaming in tears to heaven, his voice breathing to God a soft 
and gentle prayer of pardon on his enemies, " Father, forgive them, 
for they know not what they do !" the voice of the preacher, which 
had all along faltered, grew fainter and fainter, until, his utterance 
being entirely obstructed by the force of his feelings, he raised his 
handkerchief to his eyes, and burst into a loud and irrepressible 
flood of tears. 

8. The effect is inconceivable. The whole house resounded with 
the mingled groans, and sobs, and shrieks, of the congregation. 
It was some time before the tumult had subsided so far as to per- 
mit him to proceed. Indeed, judging by the usual, but fallacious 
standard of my own weakness, I began to be very uneasy for the 
situation of the preacher. 

9. For I could not conceive how he would be able to let his 
audience down from the height to which he had wound them, 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 487 

without impairing the solemnity and dignity of his subject, or per- 
haps shocking them by the abruptness of the fall. But no : the 
descent was as beautiful and sublime as the elevation had been 
rapid and enthusiastic. The first sentence, with which he broke 
the awful silence, was a quotation from Rousseau : " Socrates died 
like a philosopher, but Jesus Christ like a God !" 

10. I despair of giving you any idea of the effect produced by 
this short sentence, unless you could perfectly conceive the whole 
manner of the man, as well as the peculiar crisis in the discourse. 
Never before did I completely understand what Demosthenes 
meant by laying such, stress on delivery. 

11. You are to bring before you the venerable figure of the 
preacher ; his blindness, constantly recalling to your recollection old 
Homer, Ossian, and Milton, and associating with his performance the 
melancholy grandeur of their geniuses ; you are to imagine that you 
hear his slow, solemn, well-accented enunciation, and his voice of 
affecting, trembling melody ; you are to remember the pitch of 
passion and enthusiasm to which the congregation were raised ; 
and then the few minutes of portentous, death-like silence which 
reigned throughout the house. 

12. The preacher, removing his white handkerchief from his 
aged face, (even yet wet from the recent torrent of tears,) and slowly 
stretching forth the palsied hand which holds it, begins the sen- 
tence, " Socrates died like a philosopher ;" then pausing, raising his 
other hand, pressing them both, clasped together, with warmth 
and energy to his breast, lifting his " sightless balls" to heaven, 
and pouring his- whole soul into his tremulous voice ; " but Jesus 
Christ ; like a God S" If he had been in deed and in truth an 
angel of light, the effect could scarcely have been more divine. 



LESSON CCI. 

SPEECH OF BRUTUS ON THE DEATH OF CESAR. SHAKSPEARE. 

1. Romans, countrymen, and lovers! hear me for my cause ; 
and be silent, that you may hear : believe me for mine honor ; and 



488 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

have respect to mine honor, that you may believe: censure me in 
your wisdom; and awake your senses thai you may the better judge. 

2. If there be any in this assembly, any dear friend of O 

to him I say, that Brutus' bve to Cesar was do less than his. If 
then that friend demand, why Brutus rose against Cesar, this is 

my answer; not that I loved Cesar less, but that I loved Koine more. 

3. Had you rather Cesar wett living and die all slaves ; than 
that Cesar were dead, to live all freemen? As Cesar loved me, I 
weep for him ; as he was fortunate, I rejoice at it ; as lie was 
valiant, I honor him J but as he was ambitious, I slew him : There 
are tears, for oil love; joy, for his fortune; honor, for his valor; 
and death, for his ambition. 

4. Who is here so base, that would be a bondman? If any, 
speak ; for him have I offended. Who is here so rude, that 
would not be a Roman I h' any, speak ; for him have I often led. 
Who is here so rite, that will not love his country I [f any, speak; 
for him have 1 offended. 1 pause for a reply. 

*> Nens ! Then Done have I offended. 1 haw done no more 

aar, than you should do to Brutus. The question of bk death 

is enroll.-d in the Capitol; his glory not extenuated, wherein he 

was worthy ; nor his offences enforced, for which he suffered death. 



LESSON CCII. 

MARCO BOZZARIS. F. G. HALLECK. 

[Marco Bozzaris, the Epaminondas of modern Greece. He fell in a 
night attack upon the Turkish camp at Laspi, the site of the ancient 
Plataea, August 20, 1823, and expired in the moment of victory. His last 
words were, "To die for liberty is a pleasure, and not a pain."] 

1. At midnight, in his guarded tent, 

The Turk was dreaming of the hour 
When Greece, her knee in suppliance bent, 
Should tremble at his power. 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 489 

In dreams, through camp and court he bore 
The trophies of a conqueror ; 

In dreams, his song of triumph heard ; 
Then wore his monarch's signet-ring ; 
Then pressed that monarch's throne, a king ; 
As wild his thoughts, and gay of wing, 

As Eden's garden bird. 

2. At midnight, in the forest-shades, 

Bozzaris ranged his Suliote band, 
True as the steel of their tried blades, 

Heroes in heart and hand. 
There had the Persian's thousands stood, 
There had the glad earth drunk their blood, 

On old Plataea's day ; 
And now there breathed that haunted air, 
The sons of sires who conquered there, 
With arm to strike, and soul to dare, 

As quick, as far as they. 

3. An hour passed on ; the Turk awoke ; 

That bright dream was his last ; 
He woke to hear his sentries shriek, 

" To arms ! they come ! the Greek ! the Greek !" 
He woke to die 'midst flame, and smoke, 
And shout, and groan, and sabre-stroke, 

And death-shouts, falling thick and fast 
As lightnings from the mountain cloud ; 
And heard, with voice as trumpet loud, 

Bozzaris cheer his band : 
" Strike till the last armed foe expires ; 
Strike for your altars and your fires ; 
Strike for the green graves of your sires ; 

God, and your native land !" 

4. They fought like brave men, long and well ; 

They piled that ground with Moslem slain ; 
21* 



490 COBB'S SPEAKER, 

They conquered, but Bozzaris fell, 

Bleeding at every vein. 
His few surviving comrades saw 
His smile when rang their proud huzza, 

And the red field was won ; 
Then saw in death his eyelidi close 
Calmly, as to a night's repose, 

Like flowers at set of sun. 

5. Come to the bridal chamber, Death! 

Come to the mother's, when she feels, 
For the first time, her first-born's breath ; 

Come when the blessed seals 
That close the pestilence are broke, 
And crowded cities wail its stroke ; 
Come in consumption's ghastly form ; 
The earthquake's shock ; the ocean's storm; 
Come wlk-n the heart boats high and warm, 

With banquet-song, and dance, and wine ; 
And thou art terrible ; the tear, 
The groan, the knell, the pall, the bier, 
And all we know, or dream, or fear, 

Of agony, are thine. 

G. But to the hero, when his sword 

Has won the battle for the free, 
Thy voice sounds like a prophet's word ; 
And in its hollow tones are heard 

The thanks of millions yet to be. 
Come when its task of fame is wrought ; 
Come with her laurel-leaf, blood-bought ; 

Come in her crowning hour, and then 
Thy sunken eye's unearthly light 
To him is welcome as the sight 

Of sky and stars to prisoned men ! 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 491 

t l. Thy grasp is welcome as the hand 

Of brother in a foreign land ; 
Thy summons welcome as the cry 
That told the Indian Isles were nigh 

To the world-seeking Genoese, 
When the land-wind, from woods of palm, 
And orange groves, and fields of balm, 

Blew o'er the Haytian seas. 



8. Bozzaris ! with the storied brave, 

Greece nurtured in her glory's time, 
Rest thee : there is no prouder grave, 

Even in her own proud clime. 
She wore no funeral weeds for thee, 

Nor bade the dark hearse wave its plume 
Like torn branch from death's leafless tree, 
In sorrow's pomp and pageantry, 

The heartless luxury of the tomb. 

9. But she remembers thee as one 
Long loved and for a season gone ; 
For thee her poet's lyre is wreathed, 

Her marble wrought, her music breathed ; 
For thee she rings the birthday bells ; 
Of thee her babes' first lisping tells ; 
For thine her evening prayer is said 
At palace-couch, and cottage-bed ; 
Her soldier, closing with the foe, 
Gives, for thy sake, a deadlier blow ; 
His plighted maiden, when she fears 
For him, the joy of her young years, 
Thinks of thy fate, and checks her tears. 

10. And she, the mother of thy boys, 
Though in her eye and faded cheek 
Is read the grief she will not speak, 
The memory of her buried joys ; 



492 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

And even slu- who gave tl birth, 

Will by their pilgrim-circled hearth, 

Talk of thy doom without a Bigh ; 
For thou art Freedom's now, and Fame's; 
One of tin: few, the immortal nam.-. 

That were not born bo die. 



LESSON CCIII. 



THE SPIRIT OF "76; OK, THB CONTRAST. A TEMPERANCE 
DIALOGUE. B. W. BXTOV, 

Joseph Bluster, the son of a Drunkard, working for the To- 
bacco Hollers; and not at School. 

Charles Careful, and Richard Prudence, keeping the Fourth 
of July with the Temperance Society. 

Scene — near Harlem. 
Prudence and Careful resting by the way to the Rail-Road — Charles 
standing— Henry sitting down, on a rock, by some bushes. 

[A small box with a cedar limb, a little grass, and a couple of large 
stones. Charles has a basket covered with a napkin, containing cher- 
ries ; and bears a small flag which he sticks in the ground ; Richard has 
a basket of crackers and a jug of water.] 

Richard. What a delightful day ! we'll have the best time of 
any one in York. 

Charles. So we shall ; and it will be such a rational way of 
keeping the Fourth of July ; and then it will bear looking at to- 
morrow, when those who keep up Independence after the old fash- 
ion will be sick and sore enough ; while we shall be all the fresher 
for work, and our teachers for their work and business ; what a 
blessing to the nation if every one would keep it so. [Bluster 
runs along with a black jug and a piece of a ragged flag .] 

R. Halloo, Joseph ! whither so fast; you must have -some great 
game in view by your haste. 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 493 

J. Do not stop me for all the world ; I have not any time ; for, 
I have to take Bob Racket's crackers to him, and join him to see 
the parade ; for, we are going partners ; half a dollar between us ; 
you do not know that ! So I must make haste home with the old 
jug ; [holds it up ; a black jug, lettered white, with the word 
" stingo ;"] for Pop's going to have Uncle Tom, Squire Thumper, 
and Capt. Slambang ; and they are going to have a roaring time, 
to keep up Independence. 

R. Keep up Independence by roaring ! what a way for rational 
beings, and for the sons of freemen, on this our nation's birth-day. 
But what have you there ? Something to make the roar come ? 
If it is, it must be something of the nature of fire and brimstone, 
for that makes the cannons roar ! 

J. Oh ! we are going to do that too ; [shakes his bunch of 
crackers as he explodes a torpedo^\ But this is roaring old stin- 
go ! only half a gallon, just a pint a piece for them; I got it 
down to the Red Dragon ! and by the time they have settled it 
up, [turns over the jug^\ they will roar like big guns, I guess ! 

C. But what do you call old stingo ? 

J. Why, that is just what Uncle Tom and father call it ; rale 
old Jamaky ! 

C. Old Rum, is it ? Well, they have hit on the right name 
at last, Joseph ; for, folks were warned about its sting as long ago 
as the day of Solomon, who said, " at last it biteth as a serpent, 
and stingeth as an adder :" it would be well if stingo was written 
on every still-pipe in the country ; for, they appear, like great ana- 
condas to sting and squeeze one to death ; say what you will, 
they are nothing but great copper-heads. 

R. How strange it is, that the quiet, peaceable sort of thing- 
called the still-ivorm ; that loves to lie all the time in cold water, 
should make folks roar so ; and, so fond of fire as to eat it. I tell 
you what, folks had better let it alone ; it is a snake in the grass ; 
a real rattlesnake; its bite is mortal; I know it by its noise! 
Yes, stingo is the right name for it, so that is its name now, and 
all that use it shall be called sting-iT^s. 

J. I do not care for that ; it's good, tho' ! 



494 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

R. So is arsenic good, Joseph ; good to kill rats, and bo is 
mercury, (calomel,) good in the hands of a doctor, when folks are 
sick, and the doctor mixes it, then it may be sate ; but would 
you have every one take it, and at all times, as they do your poi- 
son stingo ? 

J. My father says, his father told him, that his father told hint, 
that hifl father told him, that old stingo was as good as doctor's 
stuff; and, father thinks his stomach feels so good when he takes 
a small glass carl// in the mor/ti//g,ao that he can not help taking 
another be/ore breakfast. 

R. As long ago ai the 'lays of Isaiah, Joseph, this was said to be 
the roa'l to captivity : u wo unto them that rise up early to follow 
strong drink," "therefore, they go into captivity." 

C. So I suppose your father's father's father was a prisoner in 
chains, too, as well as your Uncle Tom i 

J. Why, they were always pretty liiyli-iniuded ; but then they 
w.re always well down in the world, too : father says they all 
died young, and made out poorly. 

R. That appears as if old stingo was not as good doctor's stuff, 
as early rising, industry, and cold water. 

J. But the doctors use it, Richard. 

R. Not all of them ; for, some of them, to their honor, be it 
said, are teetotallers ; they neither take it nor give it ; and, what 
is more, they do not even wink at it. 

C. There is Dr. Waters, he says there are many other things 
they can use in its stead ; and, he says it is downright murder, 
under such circumstances, even to heal a patient by such means, 
seeing it does but prolong the life of a monster that has destroyed 
so many lives ! 

R. Besides, Joseph, you might as well excuse the sting-ites, 
[significantly^] you understand me, for putting a knife to their 
throat because the doctor uses it to amputate a broken limb ; for 
shame ! I tell you I am like the son of the ancient Rechabites. 
My grandfather's father told my father, that his father told his fa- 
ther that his father told him that his great grandfather told him, 
that wine, (for that is what they used to call stingo.) that he would 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 495 

not touch it ; nor put the bottle to his neighbor's nose ; and, that 
it should only be taken from the doctor's own hand, and then we 
ought to say, " Doctor, will not any thing else do ?" 

J. Well, I do not know but you are half right ; for, if it is doc- 
tor stuff, only doctors should deal it out. Father takes it half 
and half ; Uncle Tom and 'Squire Thumper a little over ; but 
Capt. Slambang says he is up to the mark ; for, he takes it clear 
raw : now once when the captain set down his glass, (a most un- 
common thing for the captain, but he was telling one of his tough 
stories, and was taking a chew out of his mouth,) I just tasted it, 
and I thought my head was off : it was like fire ! 

R. Why, it is fire ! 

J. Well, I really believed it that time, and wondered how the 
captain could tip it off so, \turning the jug,] unless his throat was 
lined with copper pipe such as they make it with. 

C. Ay, Joseph, or something very like, for the skin must be 
pretty well tanned with tobacco juice. What an abuse are all 
these things against the simple order of Nature. I am out of all 
patience with civilized people that chew or smoke tobacco or 
opium ; drink laudanum or stingo ; brown stout or blackstrap ; 
pale ale or rosy champaign, port, claret or hock, mint juleps, 
stone fence or flips, cider brandy or cider, cherry bounce or currant 
wine, malmsy or cherry, beer, metheglin or mead or ginger pop, 
carbonated mead, lemonade, or even to the far-famed carbureted hy- 
drogen pale beer, is to be the portable drink of the tyro stingites for 
the present summer. You should never have touched the captain's 
glass, Joseph ; for, I am afraid you have not seen the end of it. 

J. I do not know but that you are more than half right then ; 
for, I have tasted it a great many times since. 

C. Now, Joseph, [stepping fomvard and taking him by the 
hand.] 

J. But stop, and let me tell you how it was ; mother never took 
a bit till last New Year's day ; father fixed some hot stuff with 
sugar in it ; and mother has been pretty faithful to it ever since, 
only whenever she takes it she goes into our back-room, clear by 
herself, and when she comes out she says, Sonny, there is some 



496 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

sugar for you. So one dav I said, Mother, it tastes like Pop's old 
stingo! then she never ashed me any morel but I have watched 

the glass ever since. I can not bear the stingo, though; bat, I 
can not help it, I do like that SUOAl ; and, 1 do Dot think stingo 
smells bad; I rather like the Bmell of it; [cpent the jay and 
smells,] just smell it. 

[C. approaches.] Why, it makes my head turn. 

J. Oh, you are not need to it, BmeU it hard. [C. and R. both 
rush towards him with earnestness.] Do, Joseph, dewt* we can 
never bear this ; do let us persuade you never to smell or taste it. 

J. Well, I do not like it, and I wish father did not But what 
must I do ? do tell me. 

C. Do ? why, fly for your life. 

R. Come with us to-day, and we'll talk more about it ; for, we 
are going to keep up Independence too. Rum with sugar has 
slain its tens of thousands ; and it makes a man a slave ; a drunk- 
en American is a contradiction as much as & free slave ; for, a 
drunkard in this land of liberty forswearB his country and is twice 
a -lave ; come with us and keep 4th of July in our new way ; 
not without spirits, but with the spirits of "76 ; for this is the only 
spirit that should flow on such a day ; a jubilee of thanksgiving 
for freedom. 

J. But what do you mean by the spirits of '76, Richard ? 

R. A spirit of independence and freedom, a spirit of total absti- 
nence and self-denial, when our fathers not only declared they 
would be free, but that they would not drink that which made 
them slaves. You remember the Boston Tea Party before the 
Revolution ; that is the spirit I mean. 

C. What a pity, Joseph, that it had not been old stingo ; then 
indeed, we might have enjoyed a purer freedom at this day 

R. But, Charles, they left this triumph to us, their sons, we who 
pledge ourselves to total abstinence, and self-denial for our own and 
our neighbors' sake, and our country's good, and keep up indepen- 
dence with nothing but, [unstopping the jug and taking a good swig.] 

J. [eagerly.] Of what ? now you know what is in my jug, tell 
me what is in Tom's. 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 497 

C. Guess. 

J. Why, you have made such a war of words against the whole 
grist of drinks, from siingo to switzell and lemonade, that it leaves 
me no room to guess. 

J. Ginger pop ? 

R. No. 

J, Spruce beer ? 

C. No, no. 

J. Mead? 

R. No, it is not. 

J. Lemonade ? 

C. Nor that either. 

J. Pale ale ? 

R. Yes, very pale. 

J. Well, I thought so : I will sign for cold water too, if you 
will give me plenty of ale. 

R. Yes, it is ale, and very pale. \He pours some in his hand,~\ 
only see how very pale. 

J. Oh, do not waste it, [puts his finger in it and tastes,] why it 
has no taste and not a bit of fire in it ; it must be a cool, pleasant 
drink. 

R. That it is, and it is old enough too, it is as old as the hills. 
This is Adam's ale, the pure juice of the crystal rock. 

J. It is water ! you can get it anywhere. 

R. That is just as it should be ; nothing more wanted ; and 
through the blessing of Divine Providence nothing more plenty ; 
it pours down from the sky, comes up from the earth ; roaring 
rivers and cataracts call out to us, Come and drink ! What a 
plentiful supply for man and beast. 

J. Well, now come to think, I wonder why folks do not use 
more of it, seeing it costs nothing ; why, uncle Sam says, he does 
not know how water tastes, for he has not touched a drop since 
General Brown crossed the Canadas, most thirty years, pop says, 
and then he had a fever and thought old stingo some how seemed 
to add to it and made him more thirsty ; and, all his cry was for 
water, water, water. 



498 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

R. Ah, Joseph, this was the roice of Nature. She will be heard 
some time or other, and a man must suffer who goes against Datura 
and reason; ami, us Dr. Franklin says, if you do nut listen to 
reason she will rap you over the knuckles. 

J. And how that must hurt: but, I can not stay. I will miaf 
parade, and 13ob will want his crackers. I hope you may haye a 
shower, so that you may have a plentiful Bupply of pale ale ; there 
is Bob's brass pistol, [a torpedo explodes,] [as going he notices the 
jl'i<i, | huzza ! for temperance, boys; where are you going with 
your little flag ? 

C. Here is something else besides the flag; here is a basket of 
cherries. [ Uncovers his bash L \ 

R. [Uncovers aw,] and crackers, 

J. What are all these ? Pshaw I nothing but crackers to eat. 

R. Yes, that is the only kind for temperance boys on the Fourth 
of July. 

Rot flower of sulphur, but flour of wheat, 
No gun-powder crackers, but crackers to eat. 

[He bites.] Will you have a piece ? That is the way to keep 
Fourth of July. 

C. We are going to join the schools in town, each to bring their 
flag, cherries, and crackers, and here are ours ; and here is the 
broad sheet with all the tunes and songs and pieces to be spoken. 

J. [Puts down his jug and crackers] Oh, let me see, why 
there is yankee doodle. 

C. Yes, that is the right yankee doodle. 

J. And huzza, huzza, huzza, too. 

R. Yes, this is freedom's huzza, and here is the Land of the 
West and all the pieces to be spoken, and Mr. Freelove is to give 
an oration about Washington and Lafayette ; show the good 
Providence of God in smiling on their efforts in the cause of free- 
dom ; and, they will have large pictures to explain their history. 

J. Stop, there ; now hold on a minute, [snatches Charles' 1 white 
jug in haste by mistake] you are almost right ; I will run with 
old stingo to Uncle Tom's, and then come down in the next car 



COBB'S SPEAKER. ■ 499 

and meet you at the ferry, for I will go too; [he scampers off ;] do 
not go without me. 

C. and B. Ha ! ha ! ha ! 

0. See ! see ! he has taken the wrong jug ! What will he do ? 
He will not find out his mistake till he comes back ; but what 
shall we do with old stingo, as he calls it ? The jug is good 
enough. 

B. No, not in its present state : if it was sunk in the mill-pond 
till next Fourth of July, it would be fit to put water in, but not 
now ; and here are his crackers too. 

C. I will soon put them out of the way of harm ; so I will give 
them a crack, and they will trouble nobody for ever after with 
smoke or noise ! [He mashes them on a stoned] 

B. But what shall we do with the jug ? if we leave it here it 
will poison some one, man or beast. 

C. [Stepping cautiously around it.] I am afraid to touch it ; 
for, it will make me smell all day, if any of it spills on me ; but 
we must pom' it out, at any rate. [He pours it on the grass.] 

B. Take care, Charles, that you do not get it on you ; it is 
dreadful stuff. 

C. I will take care of that. There, so much for old stingo ; 
now it will keep the snakes off the old stump, and travellers may 
stop and rest here in peace and quiet, unless some tough old viper 
comes to sharpen his sting on it ; and if he does, he will have 
poison enough then, and need not be afraid to show fight to a 
whole nest of copper-heads. [Marks it.] There, I will mark it 
poison to warn .honest folks ; the snakes may take a suck if they 
can find a drop. How it will kill the grass, Richard ; it will not 
make any body roar to-day, at any rate ; and have not we done a 
good day's work ? Captured and destroyed one of the enemy's 
ring-leaders ; made prisoner of the general's aid, and persuaded 
him to join our ranks, and set a poison trap for the rattlesnakes. 

B. And now, Charles, we will go ; how easy the conquest 
would be if every one would honestly and kindly persuade his 
neighbor to the path of temperance, themselves leading the way 
by their pledge and their example. 



500 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

C. Poor Joseph ! how much better he will l»c oil', and how much, 
more enjoyment he will have by joining us to-day: we who are 
true freemen : American Temperance Boys ,• 

For they are the brave and the only brave, 

The free and the only free ; 
Who burst asunder every chain, 

That hindereth liberty. 

[Unrolling owl showing the Temperance Pledge on a banner. 



LESSON CCIV. 

HLUAH'S JMi;RVIEW\ CAMPBELL. 

" God not in the WTdrhamd ; nor in the Thunder; nor in the Flame, 
but in the Still, Small Voice." 

1. On Iloreb's rock the prophet stood, 

The Lord before him passed ; 
A hurricane in angry mood 

Swept by him strong and fast ; 
The forest fell before its force, 
The rocks were shivered in its course ; 

God was not in the blast ; 
'Twas but the whirlwind of his breath, 
Announcing danger, wreck, and death. 

2. It ceased. The air grew mute : a cloud 

Came, muffling up the sun, 
When, through the mountain, deep and loud, 

An earthquake thundered on ; 
The frighted eagle sprang in air, 
The wolf ran howiing from his lair ; 

God was not in the storm ; 
'Twas but the rolling of his car, 
The tramping of his steeds from far. 



COBB 5 5?Z-:: : -- 

3. "Twas still again, an I «»d 

I - ~ - 

T -.:■:-.'- k :-irring earn 
Down to the depth the ocea^ E 
The sickening sun locked wan and dead ; 

Yet God filled not the flan 
Twas but the terror of his e 
That lightened through the trou 

4. At last a voice, all still and small. 
R, ^eear; 

Y^ : iok m shrill and clear, that all 
In heaven and earth might he 
oke of pe: 
: . : i speak at: 

And God him- 
! it was a FathA 
That bade the trembling heart rejoice. 



LE-- : H 3CT. 

1. If thou hast crushed 

The root may not be bfighte 
If thou hast quenched a lamp. 

Once more it may I e . 
But on thy harp, or on thy lute 

Thf abrng -hich thou hast broken 
Shall never in sweef ■ :nd again 
r to thy touch a total 

% If thou has: loosed bird. 

Wfcoee voice oi song could cheer 



502 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

Still, he may be won 

From the skies to warble near thee ; 
But if upon the troubled sea 

Thou hast thrown a gem unheeded, 
Hope not the wave shall bring 

'I'll*.* treasure back when needed! 

3. If thou hast bruised a vine, 

The Bummer's breath is healing, 
And its cluster yet may glow 

Thro' the leaves, their bloom revealing; 
But if thou hast a cup o'erthrown 

With a bright draught filled ; never 
Shall earth give back that lavished wealth 

To cool thy parched lips' fever! 

4. The heart is like that cup : 

If thou waste the love it bore thee, 
And like that jewel gone, 

Which the deep will not restore thee ; 
And like that string of harp or lute 

Whence the sweet sound is scattered ; 
Gently, 0, gently touch the cords, 

So soon for ever shattered ! 



LESSON CCVI. 

MERCHANT OF VENICE. SHAKSPEARE. 

VENICE. A COUET OF JUSTICE. TRIAL SCENE 

[Enter the Duke, Antonio, Bassanio, Salanio, Geatiano, and others.] 
Antonio had borrowed of Shylock, to meet the necessities of his friend 
Bassanio, three thousand ducats. Shylock, the wealthy Jew, who lent the 
money, having a grudge against Antonio, most ingeniously and artfully re- 
quired, as one of the conditions of the bond given by Antonio for the money, 
that if tbe money should not be paid on a particular day, he might cut a 
pound of flesh from the body of Antonio, " nearest his heart." Portia, the 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 503 

judge, is the wife of Bassanio ; and Nerissa, her maid, is the wife of Gra- 
tiano : both are in disguise, however, and unknown to their husbands. 

Duke. What, is Autonio here ? 

Antonio. Ready, so please your grace. 

Duke. I am sorry for thee : thou art come to answer 
A stony adversary, an inhuman wretch, 
Uncapable of pity, void and empty 
From any dram of mercy. 

Ant. I have heard 
Your grace has taken great pains to qualify 
His rigorous course ; but since he stands obdurate, 
.And that no lawful means can carry me 
Out of his envy's reach, I do oppose 
My patience to his fury ; and am armed 
To suffer, with a quietness of spirit, 
The very tyranny and rage of his. 

Duke. Go one, and call the Jew into the court. 

Salanio. He 's ready at the door : he comes, my lord. 
[Enter Shylock.] 

Duke. Make room, and let him stand before our face. 
Shylock, the world thinks, and I think so too, 
That thou but lead'st this fashion of thy malice 
To the last hour of act ; and then, 'tis thought, 
Thou 'It show thy mercy and remorse, more strange 
Than is thy strange apparent cruelty ; 
And, where thou now exact'st the penalty, 
(Which is a pound of this poor merchant's flesh,) 
Thou wilt not only lose the forfeiture, 
But, touched with human gentleness and love, 
Forgive a moiety of the principal ; 
Glancing an eye of pity on his losses 
That have of late so huddled on his back, 
Enough to press a royal merchant down, 
And pluck commiseration of his state 
From brassy bosoms, and rough hearts of flint, 
From stubborn Turks, and Tartars, never trained 



504 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

To offices of tender courtesy, 

We all »-\|icrt a -Vtltlc BUSH . I\ ,Jr\V. 

Shy. I have possessed your grace of what L purpose; 
And by our holy Sabbath have I sworn, 
To have the due and forfeit of my bond ; 
If you deny it, let the danger light 
Upon your charter, and your city's freedom. 
You'll ask me why 1 rather choose to have 
A weight of carrion flesh, than to receive 
Three thousand ducats : I '11 not answer that; 
But, say, it u my humor; La it answered? 
What If my house be troubled with s rat. 
And I 1..- pleased t<> give ten thousand ducats 

To have it baned ; what, are you answered yet? 
Some men there are, love not a gaping pig; 
Some, that are mad, if they behold a cat; 
Now I'm- your answer : 

A- there is no firm reason to be rendered, 

Why he can not abide a gaping pig ; 

Why he, a harmless necessary cat; 

So can I give no reason, nor will I not, 

More than a lodged hate, and a certain loathing, 

I bear Antonio, that I follow thus 

A losing suit against him. Are you answered ? 

Bassanio. This is no answer, thou unfeeling man, 
To excuse the current of thy cruelty. 

Shy. I am not bound to please thee with my answer. 

Bass. Do all men kill the things they do not love ? 

Shy. Hates any man the thing he would not kill ? 

Bass. Every offence is not a hate at first. 

Shy. What, wouldst thou have a serpent sting thee twice ? 

Ant. I pray you, think, you question with the Jew : 
You may as well go stand upon the beach, 
And bid the main flood bate its usual height ; 
You may as well use question with the wolf, 
Why he hath made the ewe bleat for the lamb ; 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 505 

You may as well forbid the mountain pines 
To wag their high tops and to make no noise, 
When they are fretted with the gusts of heaven ; 
You may as well, do any thing most hard, 
As seek to soften that, (than which what's harder ?) 
His Jewish heart : Therefore, I do beseech you, 
Make no more offers, use no farther means, 
But, with all brief and plain conveniency, 
Let me have judgment, and the Jew his will. 

Bass. For thy three thousand ducats, here are six. 

Shy. If every ducat in six thousand ducats 
Were in six parts, and every part a ducat, 
I would not draw them ; I would have my bond ! 

Duke. How shalt thou hope for mercy, rendering none ? 

Shy. What judgment shall I dread, doing no wrong ? 
You have among you many a purchased slave, 
Which, like your asses, and your dogs, and mules, 
You use in abject and in slavish parts, 
Because you bought them : Shall I say to you, 
Let them be free, marry them to your heirs ? 
Why sweat they under burdens ? let their beds 
Be made as soft as yours, and let their palates 
Be seasoned with such viands ? You will answer, 
The slaves are ours : So do I answer you. 
The pound of flesh, which I demand of him, 
Is dearly bought, 'tis mine, and I will have it ! 
If you deny me, fy upon your law ! 
There is no force in the decrees of Venice : 
I stand for judgment : answer ; shall I have it ? 

Duke. Upon my power, I may dismiss this court, 
Unless Bellario, a learned doctor, 
Whom I have sent for to determine this, 
Come here to-day. 

Sal. My lord, here stays without 
A messenger, with letters from the doctor, 
"New come from Padua. 

22 



506 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

Duke. Bring us the letters ; call the messenger. 

Bass. Good cheer, Antonio ! What, man ? courage yet 1 
The Jew shall have my flesh, blood, bones, and all, 
Ere thou shalt lose for me one drop of blood. 

Ant. I am a tainted wether of the flock, 
Meetest for death : the weakest kind of fruit 
Drops earliest t" the ground, and so let me; 
You can not better be employed, Bassanio, 
Than to live still, and writ.- mine epitaph. 

[£/id /• \i:i;is->a, dressed liht <> lawyer's clerk.] 

Duke. Come you from Padua, from BeUario I 

Nerissa. From both, my lord : Bellaii OUT graee. 

[Presents a letter. 

Bass. Why dost thou whet thy knife so earnestly? 

Shy. To cut the forfeiture from that bankrupt there. 

Gra. Not on thy sole, but on thy soul, harsh Jew, 
Thou mak'st thy knife keen ; but no metal can. 
No, not the hangman's axe, bear half the keenness 
Of thy sharp envy. Can no prayers pierce thee? 

Shy. No, none that thou hast wit enough to make! 

Gra. O, be thou cursed, inexorable dog ! 
And for thy life let justice be accused. 
Thou almost mak'st me waver in my faith, 
To hold opinion with Pythagoras, 
That souls of animals infuse themselves 
Into the trunks of men : thy currish spirit 
Governed a wolf, who, hanged for human slaughter, 
Even from the gallows did his fell soul fleet, 
And whilst thou layest in thy unhallowed dam, 
Infused itself in thee ; for thy desires 
Are wolfish, bloody, starved, and ravenous ! 

Shy. Till thou canst rail the seal from off my bond, 
Thou but offend'st thy lungs to speak so loud ; 
Repair thy wit, good youth, or it will fall 
To cureless ruin. I stand here for law. 

Duke. This letter from Bellario doth commend 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 507 

A young and learned doctor to our court : 
Where is he ? 

Ner. He attendeth here hard by, 
To know your answer, whether you'll admit him. 

Duke. With all my heart : some three or four of you, 
Go give him courteous conduct to this place. 
Meantime, the court shall hear Bellario's letter. 

[Clerk reads.] " Your grace shall understand, that, at the re- 
ceipt of your letter, I am very sick: but in the instant that your 
messenger came, in loving visitation was with me a young doctor 
of Rome ; his name is Balthazar. I acquainted him with the 
cause in controversy between the Jew and Antonio, the merchant : 
we turned over many books together ; he is furnished with my 
opinion ; which bettered with his own learning, (the greatness 
whereof lean not enough commend,) comes with him, at my impor- 
tunity, to fill up your graced request in my stead. I beseech 
you, let his lack of years be no impediment to let him have a 
reverend estimation ; for, I never knew so young a body with so 
old a head. I leave him to your gracious acceptance, whose trial 
shall better publish his commendation." 

Duke. You hear the learned Bellario, what he writes ; and here, 
I take it, is the doctor come. 

[Enter Portia, dressed like a doctor of laws.] 
Give me your hand ; came you from old Bellario ? 

Portia. I did, my lord. 

Duke. You are welcome : take your place. 
Are you acquainted with the difference 
That holds this present question in the court ? 

For. I am informed thoroughly of the cause. 
Which is the merchant here, and which the Jew ? 

Duke. Antonio and old Shylock, both stand forth ! 

Por. Is your name Shylock ? 

Shy. Shylock is my name. 

Por. Of a strange nature is the suit you follow ; 
Yet in such a rule that the Venetian law 



508 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

Can not impugn you as you do proceed. 

You stand within his danger, do you not? [To Antonio. 

Ant. Ay, so he says. 

Por. Do you confess the bond ? 

Ant. I do. 

Por. Then must the Jew be merciful. 

Shy. On what compulsion must I ? tell me that ! 

Por. The quality of mercy is not strained ; 
It droppeth, as the gentle rain from ln-aven, 
Upon the place beneath : it is twice bless.. I ; 
It blesseth him that gives, and bun that takes: 
'Tis mightiest in the mightiest ; it becomes 
The throned monarch better than his crown : 
His sceptre shows the force of temporal power, 
The attribute to awe and majesty, 
"Wherein doth sit the fear and dread of kings ; 
But mercy is above the sceptred sway, 
It is enthroned in the hearts of kings, 
It k an attribute to God himself; 
And earthly power doth then show likest God's 
When mercy seasons justice. Therefore, Jew, 
Though justice be thy plea, consider this ; 
That, in the course of justice, none of us 
Should see salvation. We do pray for mercy ; 
And that same prayer doth teach us all to render 
The deeds of mercy. I have spoke thus much, 
To mitigate the justice of thy plea ; 
"Which, if thou follow, this strict court of Venice 
Must needs give sentence 'gainst the merchant there. 

Shy. My deeds upon my head ! I crave the law, 
The penalty and forfeit of my bond. 

Por. Is he not able to discharge the money ? 

Bass. Yes, here I tender it for him in the court ; 
Yea, thrice the sum : if that will not suffice, 
I will be bound to pay it ten times o'er, 
On forfeit of my hands, my head, my heart : 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 509 

If this will not suffice, it must appear 

That malice bears down truth : and I beseech you, 

Wrest once the law to your authority ; 

To do a great right, do a little wrong, 

And curb this cruel devil of his will. 

Por. It must not be. There is no power in Venice 
Can alter a decree established : 
'Twill be recorded for a precedent ; 
And many an error, by the same example, 
"Will rush into the state : it can not be. 

Shy. A Daniel come to judgment ! yea, a Daniel ! 
O, wise young judge, how do I honor thee ! 

Por. I pray you, let me look upon the bond. 

Shy. Here it is, most reverend doctor, here it is. 

Por. Shylock, there's thrice thy money offered thee. 

Shy. An oath, an oath ; I have an oath in heaven ! 
Shall I lay perjury upon my soul ? 
No, not for Venice. 

Por. Why, this bond is forfeit ; 
And lawfully by this the Jew may claim 
A pound of flesh, to be by him cut off 
Nearest the merchant's heart. Be merciful ; 
Take thrice thy money ; bid me tear the bond. 

Shy. When it is paid according to the tenor. 
It doth appear, you are a worthy judge ; 
You know the law, your exposition 
Hath been most sound: I charge you by the law, 
Whereof you are a well-deserving pillar, 
Proceed to judgment. By my soul, I swear, 
There is no power in the tongue of man 
To alter me. I stay here on my bond. 

Ant. Most heartily I do beseech the court 
To give the judgment. 

Por. Why, then, thus it is. 
You must prepare your bosom for his knife. 
L Shy. 0, noble judge ! O, excellent young man ! 



510 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

For. For the intent and purpose of the law 
Hath full relation to the penalty, 
AYhich here appeareth due upon the bond. 

Shy. Tis very true : 0, wise, and upright judge I 
How much more elder art thou than thy looks I 

For. Therefore, lay bare your bosom. 

Shy. Ay, his breast ; 
So says the bond : doth it not, noble judge ? 
Nearest his heart ; those are the very words. 

For. It is so. Are there balances here, to weigh 
The flesh ? 

Shy. I have them ready. 

For. Have by some surgeon, Shylock, on your charge, 
To stop his wounds, lest he do bleed to death. 

Shy. Is it so nominated in the bond ? 

For. It is not so expressed ; but what of that ? 
'Twere good you do so much for charity. 

Shy. I can not find it ; 'tis not in the bond. 

For. Come, merchant, have you any thing to say ? 

Ant. But little ; I am armed, and well prepared. 
Give me your hand, Bassanio ; fare you well ! 
Grieve not that I am fallen to this for you ; 
For herein fortune shows herself more kind 
Than is her custom ; it is still her use 
To let the wretched man outlive his wealth, 
To view with hollow eye, and wrinkled brow, 
An age of poverty ; from which lingering penance 
Of such a misery doth she cut me off. 
Commend me to your honorable wife ; 
Tell her the process of Antonio's end, 
Say how I loved you, speak me fair in death ; 
And, when the tale is told, bid her be judge, 
Whether Bassanio had not once a love. 
Kepent not that you shall lose your friend, 
And he repents not that he pays your debt ; 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 511 

For, if the Jew do cut but deep enough, 
I'll pay it instantly with all my heart. 

Bass. Antonio, I am married to a wife 
Which is as dear to me as life itself; 
But life itself, my wife, and all the world, 
Are not with me esteemed above thy life ; 
I would lose all, ay, sacrifice them all 
Here to this devil, to deliver you. 

Por. Your wife would give you little thanks for that, 
If she were by, to hear you make the offer. 

Gra. I have a wife, whom, I protest, I love ; 
I would she were in heaven, so she could 
Entreat some power to change this currish Jew 1 

Ner. 'Tis well you offer it behind her back ; 
The wish would make else an unquiet house. 

Shy. These be the Christian husbands ! 
'Would any of the stock of Barabbas 

Had been her husband, rather than a Christian ! [Aside, 

We trifle time ; I pray thee, pursue sentence. 

Por. A pound of that same merchant's flesh is thine ; 
The court awards it, and the law doth give it. 

Shy. Most rightful judge ! 

Por. And you must cut this flesh from off his breast ; 
The law allows it, and the court awards it. 

Shy. Most learned judge ! A sentence ; come, prepare. 

Por. Tarry a little ; there is something else. 
This bond doth give thee here no jot of blood : 
The words expressly are, a pound of flesh ; 
Take, then, thy bond, take thou thy pound of flesh ; 
But, in the cutting of it, if thou dost shed 
One drop of Christian blood, thy lands and goods 
Are, by the laws of Venice, confiscate 
Unto the state of Venice. 

Gra. O, upright judge ! Mark, Jew ; a learned judge ! 

Shy. Is that the law ? 

Por. Thyself shalt see the act ; 



612 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

For, as thou urgest justice, be assured, 

Thou shalt have justice, more than thou dearest 

Gra. O, learned judge ! Mark, Jew ; a learned judge ! 

Shy. I take this offer, then ; pay the bond thrice, 
And let the Christian go. 

Bass. Here is the money. 

Por. Soft; 
The Jew shall have all justice! soft; no haste; 
He shall have nothing but the penalty. 

Gra. O, Jew ! an upright judge, a learned judge ! 

Por. Therefore, prepare thee to cut off the flesh. 
Shed thou no blood ; nor cut thou less, nor more, 
But just a pound of flesh; if thou takVt more, 
Or less, than just a pound, be it so much 
As makes it light, or heavy, in the substance, 
Or the division of the twentieth part 
Of one poor scruple ! nay, if the scale do turn 
But in the estimation of a hair, 
Thou diest, and all thy goods are confiscate. 

Gra. A second Daniel, a Daniel, Jew ! 
Now, infidel, I have thee on the hip. 

Por. Why doth the Jew pause ? take thy forfeiture. 

Shy. Give me my principal, and let me go. 

Bass. I have it ready for thee ; here it i-. 

Por. He hath refused it in the open court : 
He shall have merely justice, and his bond. 

Gra. A Daniel, still say I! a second Daniel ! 
I thank thee, Jew, for teaching me that word. 

Shy. Shall I not have barely my principal ? 

Por. Thou shalt have nothing but the forfeiture, 
To be so taken at thy peril, Jew. 

Shy. Why, then, the devil give him good of it ! 
I'll stay no longer question. [Going. 

Por. Tarry, Jew ; 
The law hath yet another hold on you. 
It is enacted in the laws of Venice, 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 513 

If it be proved against an alien, 

That by direct, or indirect attempts, 

He seek the life of any citizen, 

The party, 'gainst the which he doth contrive, 

Shall seize one half his goods ; the other half 

Comes to the privy coffer of the state ; 

And the offender's life lies in the mercy 

Of the duke only, 'gainst all other voice. 

In which predicament, I say, thou stand'st ; 

For it appears by manifest proceeding, 

That, indirectly, and directly too, 

Thou hast contrived against the very life 

Of the defendant ; and thou hast incurred 

The danger formerly by me rehearsed. 

Down, therefore, beg mercy of the duke. 

Gra. Beg that thou may'st have leave to hang thyself; 
And yet, thy wealth being forfeit to the state, 
Thou hast not left the value of a cord ; 
Therefore, thou must be hanged at the state's charge. 

Duke. That thou shalt see the difference of our spirit, 
I pardon thee thy life before thou ask it : 
For half thy wealth, it is Antonio's ; 
The other half comes to the general state, 
Which humbleness may drive into a fine. 

For. Ay, for the state ; not for Antonio. 

Shy. Nay, take my life and all ; pardon not that : 
You take my house, when you do take the prop 
That doth sustain the house ; you take my life, 
When you do take the means whereby I live. 

For. Wliat mercy can you render him, Antonio ? 

Gra. A halter gratis ; nothing else, for Heaven's sake. 

Ant. So please my lord the duke, and all the court, 
To quit the fine for one half of his goods ; 
I am content, so he will let me have 
The other half in use, to render it, 
Upon his death, unto the gentleman 

22* 



514 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

That lately stole his daughter : 

Two things provided more ; that, for this favor, 

He presently become a Christian ; 

The other, that he do record a gift, 

Here in the court, of all be dam poaseeted, 

Unto his son Lorenzo, and his daughter. 

Duke. He shall do this ; or else I do recant 
The pardon that I late pronounced here. 

For. Art thou contented, Jew ? What dost thou say f 

Shy. I am content. 

For. Clerk, draw a deed of gift 

Shy. I pray you, give me leave to go from hence : 
I am not well ; send the deed after me, 
And I will sign it. 

Duke. Get thee gone, but do it. 

Ora. In christening, thou slialt have two godfathers; 
Had I been judg'% thou shouldst hare had ten more, 
To bring thee to the pillow-, not the font. [Exit Shylock. 

Duke. Sir, I entreat you home with me to dinner. 

For. I humbly do desire your grace of pardon ; 
I must away this night toward- J'adua, 
And it is meet, I presently set forth. 

Duke. I am sorry, that your leisure serves not. 
Antonio, gratify this gentleman ; 
For, in my mind, you are much bound to him. 

[Exeunt Duke, Manijicoes, and Train. 



LESSON CCVII. 

ALEXANDER THE GREAT AND A ROBBER. DR. AIKEN. 

[Alexander the Great in his tent. A man with a fierce countenance, 
chained and fettered, brought before him.] 

Alexander. What, art thou the Thracian robber, of whose ex- 
ploits I have heard so much ? 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 515 

Robber. I am a Thracian, and a soldier. 

Alexander. A soldier ! a thief, a plunderer, an assassin ! the pest 
of the country ! I could honor thy courage, but I must detest and 
punish thy crimes. 

Robber. What have I done, of which you can complain ? 

Alexander. Hast thou not set at defiance my authority ; violated 
the public peace, and passed thy life in injuring the persons and 
properties of thy fellow subjects ? 

Robber. Alexander ! I am your captive, I must hear what you 
please to say, and endure what you please to inflict. But my soul 
is unconquered ; and if I reply at all to your reproaches, I will re- 
ply like a free man. 

Alexander. Speak freely. Far be it from me to take the advan- 
tage of my power, to silence those with whom I deign to converse. 

Robber. I must then answer your question by another. How 
have you passed your life ? 

Alexander. Like a hero. Ask Fame, and she will tell you. 
Among the brave, I have been the bravest ; among sovereigns the 
noblest ; among conquerors the mightiest. 

Robber. And does not Fame speak of me, too ? Was there ever 
a bolder captain of a more valiant band ? Was there ever ; but I 
scorn to boast. You yourself know that I have not been easily 
subdued. 

Alexander. Still, what are you but a robber, a base, dishonest 
robber ? 

Robber. And what is a conqueror ? Have not you, too, gone 
about the earth like an evil genius r blasting the fair fruits of peace 
and industry ; plundering, ravaging, killing, without law, without 
justice, merely to gratify an insatiable lust for dominion ? All 
that I have done to a single district with a hundred followers, you 
have done to whole nations with a hundred thousand. If I have 
stripped individuals, you have ruined kings and princes. If I have 
burnt a few hamlets, you have desolated the most flourishing 
kingdoms and cities of the earth. What then is the difference, 
but that as you were born a king, and I a private man, you have 
been able to become a mightier robber than I ? 



516 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

Alexander. But if I have taken like a king, I have given like ■ 
king. If I have subverted empires, I hare founded great, v. I 
have cherished arts, commerce, ami philosophy. 

Robber. I, too, have freely given t<< the poor what I took from 
the rich. I have established order and discipline among the most 
ferocious of mankind, and have stretched out my protecting arm 
over the oppressed. I know, indeed, little of the philosophy you 
talk of, but I believe neither you nor I, shall ever atone to the 
world for half the mischief ire have done it. 

Alexander. Leave me. Take oft' his chains, and use him well. 
Are we then so much alike ? Alexander like a robber ? Let mo 
reflect. 



LESSON CCVIII. 

THE QUARREL OF BRUTUS AND CASSIUS. 8HAK8PEARE, 

Cas. That you have wronged me, doth appear in this ; 
You have condemned and noted Lucius Pella, 
For taking bribes here of the Sardi I 
"Wherein my letters, praying on his side, 
Because I knew the man, were slighted off. 

Bru. You wronged yourself to write in such a case. 

Cas. In such a time as this, it is not meet 
That every nice offence should bear its comment. 

Bru. Let me tell you, Cassius, you yourself 
Are much condemned to have an itching palm ; 
To sell and mart your offices for gold 
To undeservers. 

Cas. I an itching palm ? 
You know that you are Brutus that speak this, 
Or, by the gods, this speech were else your last. 

Bru. The name of Cassius honors this corruption, 
And chastisement doth therefore hide its head. 

Cas. Chastisement ! 



COBB'S SPEAKEK. 517 

Bru. Remember March, the Ides of March remember ! 
Did not great Julius bleed for justice' sake ? 
"What villain touched his body, that did stab, 
And not for justice ? What, shall one of us, 
That struck the foremost man in all this world, 
But for supporting robbers ; shall we now 
Contaminate our fingers with base bribes, 
And sell the mighty space of our large honors, 
For so much trash as may be grasped thus ? 
I had rather be a dog, and bay the moon, 
Than such a Roman. 

Cas. Brutus, bay not me ; 
I '11 not endure it. You forget yourself, 
To hedge me in ; I am a soldier, I, 
Older in practice, abler than yourself, 
To make conditions. 

Bru. Go to ; you 're not, Cassius. 

Cas. I am. 

Bru. I say you are not. 

Cas. Urge me no more, I shall forget myself; 
Have mind upon your health, tempt me no farther. 

Bru. Away, slight man ! 

Cas. Is 't possible ? 

Bru. Hear me, for I will speak. 
Must I give way and room to your rash choler ? 
Shall I be frighted when a madman stares ? 

Cas. Must I endure all this ? 

Bru. All this ? ay, more. Fret till your proud heart break ; 
Go, show your slaves how choleric you are, 
And make your bondmen tremble ! Must I budge ? 
Must I observe you? Must I stand and crouch 
Under your testy humor ? 
You shall digest the venom of your spleen, 
Though it do split you, for, from this day forth, 
I '11 use you for my mirth, yea, for my laughter, 
"When you are waspish. 



518 COBB'S SPEAK 

Cas. Is it come to this ? 

Bru. You say you are a better soldier : 
Let it appear so ; inakr TOW vaunting true, 
And it shall please me well. Fur mine own part, 
I shall be glad to learn of noble men. 

Cas. You wrong me every way, \<m wrong me, Brut' 
I said, an elder soldier, not ■ bettflfc 
Did I say better ? 

Bru. If you did, 1 MN DOi 

Cas. When Ceaai lived, h<- durst not thus have moved me. 

Bru. Peace, peace ; you durst not so have tempted him. 

Cas. I durst not ? 

Bru. No. 

Cas. What? durst not tempi him? 

Bru. For yon? life yon durst not. 

Cas. Do not presume too much upon my love : 
I may do that I shall be sorry t ; >i . 

11m. Wax have done that you should be sorry for. 
There is no terror, Cassius, in yonx threats; 
For I am armed so strong in honesty, 
That they pass by me as the idle wind, 
Which I respect not. I did send to you 
For certain sums of gold, which you denied me ; 
For I can raise no money by vile means : 
By Heaven, I had rather coin my heart, 
And drop my blood for drachmas, than to wring 
From the hard hands of peasants their vile trash 
By any indirection. I did send 
To you for gold to pay my legions, 
"Which you denied me. Was that done like Cassius ! 
Should I have answered Caius Cassius so ? 
W r hen Marcus Brutus grows so covetous, 
To lock such rascal counters from his friends, 
Be ready, gods, with all your thunderbolts, 
Dash him to pieces ! 

Cas. I denied you not. 



COBB'S SPEAKER, 519 

Bru. You did. 

Cas. I did not : he was but a fool 
That brought my answer back. Brutus hath rived my heart. 
A friend should bear a friend's infirmities, 
But Brutus makes mine greater than they are. 

Bru. I do not, till you practise them on me. 

Cas. You love me not. 

Bru. I do not like your faults. 

Cas. A friendly eye could never see such faults. 

Bru. A flatterer's would not, though they do appear 
As huge as high Olympus. 

Cas. Come, Antony, and young Octavius, come, 
Revenge yourselves alone on Cassius, 
For Cassius is aweary of the world : 
Hated by one he loves ; braved by his brother ; 
Checked like a bondman ; all his faults observed, 
Set in a note-book, learned and conned by rote, 
To cast into my teeth. O, I could weep 
My spirit from mine eyes ! There is my dagger, 
And here my naked breast ; within, a heart 
Dearer than Plutus' mine, richer than gold : 
If thou be'st a Roman, take it forth ; 
I, that denied thee gold, will give my heart : 
Strike as thou didst at Cesar ; for I know, 
"When thou didst hate him worst, thou lovedst him better 
Than ever thou lovedst Cassius. 

Bru. Sheath your dagger : 
Be angry w^en you will, it shall have scope ; 
Do what you will, dishonor shall be humor. 
O Cassius ; you are yoked with a lamb, 
That carries anger, as the flint bears fire ; 
Who, much enforced, shows a hasty spark, 
And straight is cold again. 

Cas. Hath Cassius lived 
To be but mirth and laughter to his Brutus, 
When grief and blood ill-tempered, vexeth him ? 



520 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

Bru. When I spoke that I waa ill-tempered top. 

Cas. Do you confess so much ? Give me your hand. 

Bru. And my heart too. 

Cas. O Brutu- ! 

Bru. What 'a the matter 1 

Save you BOt love enough to bear with me, 
When ili.it real) humor, which my mother gave me, 
Makes me forgetful | 

i?rw. Yea, Canute; and from henceforth, 
When yon ere o ^ eroar neat with yoni Brutus, 
He'll think your mother ohidet, end leave you so. 






LESSON CCIX. 

COLUMBIA. DAY K.I IT. 



1. Columbia! Columbia] to glory arise ; 

The queen of the world, and the child of the skies ; 
Thy genius commands thee ; with rapture behold, 
While ages on ages thy splendors unfold. 

2. Thy reign is the last and the noblest of time, 
Most fruitful thy soil, most inviting thy clime ; 

Let the crimes of the East ne'er encrimson thy name, 
Be freedom, and science, and virtue thy fame. 

3. To conquest and slaughter let Europe aspire, 
Whelm nations in blood and wrap cities in fire ; 
Thy heroes the rights of mankind shall defend, 
And triumph pursue them, and glory attend. 

4. A world is thy realm : for a world be thy laws, 
Enlarged as thine empire, and just as thy cause ; 
On freedom's broad basis, thy empire shall rise, 
Extend with the main, and dissolve with the skies. 






COBB'S SPEAKER. 521 

5. Fair Science her gates to thy sons shall unbar, 

And the east see thy morn hide the beams of her star ; 
New bards, and new sages, unrivalled, shall soar 
To fame unextinguished, when time is no more ; 

6. To thee, the last refuge of virtue designed, 
Shall fly from all nations the best of mankind : 
Here, grateful to Heaven, with transport shall bring 
Their incense more fragrant than odors of spring. 

7. Nor less shall thy fair ones to glory ascend, 
And genius and beauty in harmony blend ; 
The graces of form shall awake pure desire, 
And the charms of the soul ever cherish the fire : 

8. Their sweetness unmingled, their manners refined, 
And virtue's bright image instamped on the mind, 
With peace and soft rapture shall teach life to glow, 
And light up a smile on the aspect of wo. 

9. Thy fleets to all regions thy power shall display, 
The nations admire, and the ocean obey ; 
Each shore to thy glory its tribute unfold, 

And the east and the south yield their spices and gold. 

10. As the day-spring unbounded, thy splendor shall flow, 
And earth's little kingdoms before thee shall bow, 
While the ensigns of UNION", in triumph unfurl'd, 
Hush the tumult of war, and give peace to the world. 



LESSON CCX. 

ANTONYMS ORATION OVER THE DEAD BODY OF CESAR. 

SHAKSPEARE. 

Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend mo your ears. 
I come to bury Cesar, not to praise him. 
The evil that men do, lives after them ; 



622 COBB'S Sl'EAKKK. 

The good is oft interred with their bones: 
So let it I*- with Oeiarl The aoble Brutus 
Hath tol«l you, ( lesar was ambitious. 

If it were so, it W€A -us fault; 

And grievously hath Cesar answered it. 

Here, under leave (rf Brutus, and the rest, 

(For Brutus is an honorable man ; 

So are they all, all honorable men;) 

Come 1 to speak on Cesar's funeral 

He wm my Mend, faithful and just to me; 

But Brutus says be was ambitious; 

And Brutus ■ an honorable man. 

Be hath brought many captives home to Rome, 

Whose ransom did the general coffers till: 

1 >id this iii ( lesar seem ambitious ? 

When that the poor have cried, Cesar hath wept; 

Ambition should be made of tuff; 

Y.'t Brutus Bays, be was ambitious; 

And Brutus is an honorable man. 

You all di<l see, that, on the Bupereal, 

I thrice presented him a kingly crown, 

Which he did thrice refuse. Was this ambition ? 

Yet, Brum- says, he was ambitious, 

And sure, he is an honorable man. 

I speak not to disprove what Brutus spake, 

But here I am to speak what I do know. 

You all did love him once, not without cause ; 

What cause withholds you, then, to mourn for him ? 

O judgment, thou art fled to brutish beasts, 

And men have lost their reason ! Bear with me ; 

My heart is in the coffin, there, with Cesar, 

And I must pause till it come back to me. 
******* 

But yesterday, the word of Cesar might 

Have stood against the world ; now lies he there, 

And none so poor to do him reverence. 



COBB'S SPEAKEE. 523 

masters ! if I were disposed to stir 

Your hearts and minds to mutiny and rage, 

1 should do Brutus wrong, and Cassius wrong, 
"Who, you all know, are honorable men : 

I will not do them wrong ; I rather choose 
To wrong the dead, to wrong myself and you, 
Than I will wrong such honorable men. 

But here 's a parchment, with the seal of Cesar ; 
I found it in his closet, 'tis his will ; 
Let but the Commons hear this testament, 
(Which, pardon me, I do not mean to read,) 
And they would go and kiss dead Cesar's wounds, 
And dip their napkins in his sacred blood ; 
Yea, beg a hair of him for memory, 
And, dying, mention it within their wills, 
Bequeathing it as a rich legacy 
Unto their issue. 

One of the people. We '11 hear the will : read it, Mark Antony. 

All. The will, the will ; we will hear Cesar's will. 

Ant. Have patience, gentle friends, I must not read it ; 
It is not meet you know how Cesar loved you ; 
You are not wood, you are not stones, but men ; 
And being men, hearing the will of Cesar, 
It will inflame you, it will make you mad. 
"Tis good you know not that you are his heirs ; 
For if you should, 0, what would come of it ! 

People. Read the will ; we will hear it, Antony ; 
You shall read us the will. Cesar's will. 

Ant. Will you be patient ? Will you wait awhile ? 
I have o'ershot myself to tell you of it. 
I fear I wrong the honorable men 
Whose daggers have stabbed Cesar. I do fear it. 

One of the people. They were traitors : honorable men ! 

All. The will ! The testament ! 

Ant. You will compel me then to read the will ? 



524 COBB'S SPEAKEK. 

Then make a ring about the corpse of Cesar, 
And let me show you him that made the will. 

[He comes down from the pulpit, j 
If you have tears, prepare to shed them now. 
You all do know thai mantle : I remember 
The first time ever Cesar put it on ; 
'Twas on a summer's evening, in his tent, 
That day he overcame the Nervii ; 
Look ! in tin- place, ran ( lassius 1 dagger through ; 
See, what a rent the envious Casca made ; 
Through this, the well-beloved Bratm stabbed; 

And, as he pluck.-.] his coned Bteel away, 

Mark how the blood of Cesar followed it. 

* * * * * 

This was the most unkindest cut of all ; 
For, when the noble Cesar saw him stab, 
Ingratitude, more strong than traitors' arms, 
Quite vanquished him; then burst his mighty heart; 
And, in his mantle, muffling up his face, 

Great Cesar fell. 

Oh, what a fall was there, my countrymen ! 

Then I, and you, and all of us fell down, 

Whilst bloody treason flourished over us. 

Oh, now you weep ; and I perceive you feel 

The dint of pity. These are gracious drops. 

Kind souls ! What, weep you, when you but behold 

Our Cesar's vesture wounded ? Look you here, 

Here is himself, marred, as you see, by traitors. 

1st Citizen. O piteous spectacle ! 

2d Cit. O noble Cesar ! 

3c? Cit. We will be revenged ! Revenge ! about, — seek, — burn, 
— fire, — kill, — slay ! — let not a traitor live. 

Ant. Stay, countrymen. 

1st Cit. Peace there: hear the noble Antony. 

2c? Cit. We '11 hear him, we '11 follow him, we '11 die with him. 

Ant. Good friends, sweet friends, let me not stir you up 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 525 

To such a sudden flood of mutiny. 

They that have done this deed are honorable ; 

What private griefs they have, alas, I know not, 

That made them do it ; they are wise and honorable, 

And will, no doubt, with reason answer you. 

I come not, friends, to steal away your hearts ; 

I am no orator, as Brutus is ; 

But, as you know me all, a plain, blunt man, 

That loves my friend ; and that they know full well 

That gave me public leave to speak of him. 

For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth, 

Action, nor utterance, nor the power of speech, 

To stir men's blood. I only speak right on : 

I tell you that which you yourselves do know ; 

Show you sweet Cesar's wounds, poor, poor, dumb mouths, 

And bid them speak for me. But were I Brutus, 

And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony 

Would ruffle up your spirits, and put a tongue 

In every wound of Cesar, that should move 

The stones of Rome to rise and mutiny. 



LESSON CCXI. 



THE FALL OF CARDINAL WOLSEY FROM THE FAVOR OF HENRY 
VIII. SHAKSPEARE. 

Wolsey. Farewell, a long farewell, to all my greatness ! 
This is the state of man : to-day, he puts forth 
The tender leaves of hope ; to-morrow, blossoms, 
And bears his blushing honors thick upon him ; 
The third day, comes a frost, a killing frost, 
And, when he thinks, good, easy man, full surely 
His greatness is a ripening, nips his root ; 
And then he falls, as I do. I have ventured, 



526 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

Like little, wanton boys that swim on bladders, 
These many summers, in a sea of glory, 
But far beyond my depth ; my high-blown pride 
At length broke under me ; and now lias left me, 
Weary, and old with service, to the mercy 
Of a rude stream, that must for ever hide me. 
Vain pomp and glory of this world, I hate ye ! 
I feel my heart new opened. O, how wretched 
Is that poor man, that hangs on princes' favors ! 
There is betwixt that smile he would aspire to, 
That aspect sweet of princes, ami their ruin, 
More pangs and fears, than wars or women have ; 
And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, 
Never to hope again. 

[Enter Cromwell, amazedly^\ 
Why, how now, Cromwell ? 

Cromwell. I have no power to speak, sir. 

Wot. What ! amazed 
At my misfortunes ? Can thy spirit wonder, 
A great man should decline ? Nay, if you weep, 
I am fallen indeed. 

Crom. How does your grace ? 

Wol. Why, well ; 
Never so truly happy, my good Cromwell. 
I know myself now ; and I feel within me 
A peace above all earthly dignities ; 
A still and quiet conscience. The king has cured me, 
I humbly thank his grace ; and from these shoulders, 
These ruined pillars, out of pity, taken 
A load would sink a navy ; too much honor : 
O, 'tis a burden, Cromwell, 'tis a burden, 
Too heavy for a man that hopes for heaven. 

Crom. I am glad your grace has made that right use of it. 

Wol. I hope I have. I am able now, methinks, 
Out of a fortitude of soul I feel, 
To endure more miseries, and greater far, 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 527 

Than my weak-hearted enemies dare offer. 
What news abroad ? 

Crom. The heaviest, and the worst, 
Is your displeasure with the king. 

Wol. God bless him ! 

Crom. The next 's, that Sir Thomas More is chosen 
Lord Chancellor in your place. 

Wol. That is somewhat sudden ; 
But he 's a learned man. May he continue 
Long in his highness' favor, and do justice 
For truth's sake, and his conscience ; that his bones, 
When he has run his course, and sleeps in blessings, 
May have a tomb of orphans' tears wept on 'em ! 
What more ? 

Crom. That Cranmer is returned with welcome, 
Installed Lord Archbishop of Canterbury. 

Wol. That 's news indeed ! 

Crom. Last, that the Lady Anne, 
Whom the king hath in secrecy long married, 
This day was viewed in public, as his queen, 
Going to chapel ; and the voice is now 
Only about her coronation. 

Wol. There was the weight that pulled me down ! 0, Cromwell, 
The king has gone beyond me ; all my glories, 
In that one woman, I have lost for ever ; 
No sun shall ever usher forth mine honors. 
Or gild again the noble troops that waited 
Upon my smiles. Go, get thee from me, Cromwejl ; 
I am a poor, fallen man, unworthy now 
To be thy lord and master. Seek the king ; 
That sun, I pray, may never set ! I have told him 
What and how true thou art : he will advance thee ; 
Some little memoiy of me will stir him, 
(I know his noble nature,) not to let 
Thy hopeful service perish too. Good Cromwell, 



528 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

Neglect him not ; make use now, and provide 
For thine own future safety. 
" Crom. O, ray lord, 

Must I then leave you ? Must I needs forego 
So good, so noble, and so true a master ? 
Bear witness, all that have not hearts of iron, 
With what a sorrow Cromwell leaves his lord. 
The king shall have my service ; but my prayers, 
For ever, and for ever, shall be yours. 

Wol. Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear 
In all my miseries ; but thou hast forced me, 
Out of thy honest truth, to play the woman. 
Let 's dry our eyes : and thus far hear me, Cromwell ; 
And, when I am forgotten, as 1 Bhall be, 
And Bleep in dull, cold marble, where no mention 
Of me more must be heard of, say, I taught thee ; 
Say, Wolsey, that once trod the ways of glory, 
And sounded all the depth< and shoal- of honor, 
Found thee a way, out of his wreck, to rise in ; 
A sure and safe one, though thy master missed it. 
Hark but my fall, and that that ruined me. 
Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition ! 
By that sin fell the angels : how can man, then, 
The image of his Maker, hope to win by it ? 
Love thyself last ; cherish those hearts that hate thee ; 
Corruption wins not more than honesty ; 
Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, 
To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not. 
Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's, 
Thy God's, and truth's ; then, if thou fall'st, 0, Cromwell, 
Thou fall'st a blessed martyr ! Serve the king ; 
And, Pr'ythee, lead me in. 
There, take an inventory of all I have, 
To the last penny ; 'tis the king's ; my robe, 
And my integrity to Heaven, is all 
I dare now call my own. Cromwell, Cromwell, 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 529 

Had I but served my God with half the zeal 
I served my king, he would not, in mine age, 
Have naked left me to mine enemies. 

Crom. Good sir, have patience. 

Wol. So I have. Farewell 
The hopes of court ! my hopes in heaven do dwell. 



LESSON CCXII. 

PIZARRO AND GOMEZ. KOTZEBUE. 

Piz. How now, Gomez, what bringest thou ? 

Gom. On yonder hill, among the palm-trees, we have surprised 
an old Peruvian. Escape by flight he could not, and we seized 
him unresisting. 

Piz. Drag him before us. [Gomez leads in Orozembo.] What 
art thou, stranger ? 

Oro. First tell me who is the captain of this band of robbers. 

Piz. Audacious ! This insolence has sealed thy doom. Die 
thou shalt, gray-headed ruffian. But first confess what thou 
knowest. 

Oro. I know that which thou hast assured me of. that I shall die. 

Piz. Less audacity might have preserved thy life. 

Oro. My life is as a withered tree, not worth preserving. 

Piz. Hear me, old man. Even now we march against the 
Peruvian army. We know there is a secret path that leads to 
your strong hold among the rocks. Guide us to that, and name 
thy reward. If wealth be thy wish 

Oro. Ha, ha, ha ! 

Piz. Dost thou despise my offer ? 

Oro. Yes, thee and thy offer ! Wealth ! I have the wealth of 
two gallant sons. I have stored in heaven the riches which repay 
good actions here ! and still my chiefest treasure do I wear about 
me. 

23 



530 OOBB'6 SI'KAKER. 

Pig. What 18 tliat \ Inform me, 

Oro. I wOl, for thou canst never tear it from me: an naaullied 

conscience. 

Piz. I believe there ia do other Peruvian who darea neej as 
thou dost 

0;-o. Would I odiiU believe there is do other Spaniard who 
dare act as thou dost 

^om. Obdurate pagan ! how numeroua ia voui army? 

0/-o. Count the Leaves of the forest 

Gom. Which ia the weakeel part of your camp I 

Oro. It is fortified on all sides bj justice, 

Gom. Where bave you concealed your wives and children? 

Oro. In the bearta of their husbands and fathers, 

Piz. rXnoweal thou AJonzo 1 

Oro. Know him ! Alonzo! Our nation's benefactor, the guardi- 
an angel of Peru ! 

Pfe. By what baa be merited that title I 

Oro. By not resembling thee. 

. Who ia this Rolla, joined with Alonzo in command ? 

Oro. [ will answer that, for I love to apeak the hero's name. 
Rolla, the kin-man of the king, ia the idol of our army. In war a 
tiger, in peace a lamb. Cora was once betrothed to him, but 
finding she preferred Alonzo, he resigned his claim for Cora's hap- 
piness. 

Piz. Romantic savage ! I shall meet this Rolla soon. 

Oro. Thou hadst better not ! the terrors of his noble eye would 
strike thee dead ! 

Gom. Silence, or tremble ! 

Oro. Beardless robber ! I never yet have learned to tremble 
before man. Why before thee, thou less than man ! 

Gom. Another word, audacious heathen, and I strike ! 

Oro. Strike, Christian ! then boast among thy fellows, " I too, 
have murdered a Peruvian." 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 531 

LESSON CCXIII. 

ROLLA AXD ALOXZO. KOTZEBUE. 

[Enter Rolla, disguised as a monk.] 

Holla. Inform me, friend, is Alonzo, the Peruvian, confined in 
this dungeon I 

Sentinel. He is. 

Boll. I must speak with him. 

Sent. You must not. 

Boll. He is my friend. 

Sen t. Sox if he were your brother. 

Roll. TThat is to be his fate ! 

Sent. He dies at sunrise. 

Boll. Ha ! then I am come in time — 

Sent. Just to witness his death. 

Roll, [advancing towards the door.] Soldier, I must speak 
with him. 

- Sent, [pushing him back with his gun.] Back! back! it is 
impossible. 

Boll. I do entreat you but for one moment. 

Sent. You entreat in vain, my orders are most strict 

Roll. Look on this massive wedge of gold ! Look on these 
precious gems. In thy laud they will be wealth for thee and 
thine, beyond thy hope or wish. Take them, they are thine, let 
me but pass one moment with Alonzo. 

Sent, Away! TTouldst thou corrupt me 1 Me, an old Castilian ! 
I know my duty better. 

Boll. Soldier ! hast thou a wife ? 

Sent. I have. 

Boll. Hasi thou children? 

Sent. Four, honest, lovely boys. 

Boll. Where didst thou leave them \ 

Sent. In my native village ; in the very cot where I was born. 

Boll. Dost thou lore thy wife and children \ 

Sent. Do I love them \ God knows mv heart ; I do. 



532 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

Roll. Soldier! Imagine thou wast doomed to die a cruel 
death in a strange land, what would be thy last request? 

Sent. That some of my comrades should carry my dying bless- 
ing to my wife and children. 

Roll. "\Vhat if that comrade was at thy prison door, and should 
there be told, thy fellow soldier dies at sunrise, yet thou shalt not 
for a moment see him, nor shalt thou bear his dying blessing bo his 
poor children, or his wretched wife: what, wouldst thou think of 
him who thus could drive thy comrade from the door? 

Sent. Bon I 

Roll. Alonzo has a wife and child ; and 1 am come but to re- 
ceive for her, and far her poor babe, the last blessing of my friend. 

Sent. Go in. [sentinel goes out.] 

Roll, [calls.] Alonzo ! Alonzo ! 

[Enter Alonzo, speaking as he comes in.] 

Alon. How ! is my hour elapsed ? Well, I am ready. 

Roll. Alonzo, know me ! 

Alon. Holla ! Rolla ! how didst thou pass the guard ? 

Roll. There is not a moment to be lost in words. This diguise 
I tore from the dead body of a friar, as I passed our field of battle. 
It has gained me entrance to thy dungeon ; now take it thou, and 
fly. 

Alon. And Rolla — 

Roll. Will remain here in thy place. 

Alon. And die for me ! No ! Rather myself, suffer a hundred 
deaths. 

Roll. I shall not die, Alonzo. It is thy life Pizarro seeks, not 
Rolla's ; and thy arm may soon deliver me from prison. Or, 
should it be otherwise, I am as a blighted tree in the desert ; 
nothing lives beneath my shelter. Thou art a husband and a 
father ; the being of a lovely wife and helpless infant depend upon 
thy life. Go ! go ! Alonzo, not to save thyself, but Cora, and 
thy child. 

Alon. Urge me not thus, my friend, I am prepared to die in peace. 

Roll. To die in peace ! devoting her you have sworn to live for, 
to madness, misery, and death ! 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 533 

Alon. Merciful heavens ! 

Roll. If thou art yet irresolute, Alonzo, now mark me well. 
Thou knowest that Rolla never pledged his word and shrunk from 
its fulfilment. Know then, if thou art proudly obstinate, thou 
shalt have the desperate triumph of seeing Rolla perish by thy 
side. 

Alon. O Rolla ! you distract me ! Wear you the robe, and 
though dreadful the necessity, we will strike down the guard, and 
force our passage. 

Roll. What, the soldier on duty here ? 

Alon. Yes, else seeing two, the alarm wiil be instant death. 

Roll. For my nation's safety, I would not harm him. That 
soldier, mark me, is a man ! All are not men that wear the 
human form. He refused my prayers, refused my gold, denying 
to admit, till his own feelings bribed him. I will not risk a hair of 
that man's head, to save my own life. But haste ! A moment's 
farther pause, and all is lost. 

Alon. Rolla, I fear thy friendship drives me from honor and 
from right. 

Roll. Did Rolla ever counsel dishonor to his friend ? [throwing 
the friars garment over his shoulders^ There, conceal thy face. 
Now God be with thee. 



LESSON CCXIV. 

HARVEST HYMN. MRS. SIGOURNEY. 

1. God of nature! God of love! 

Smile upon our festive rite, 
Thou who bidd'st the seasons prove 
Circling sources of delight. 

2. Spring, a rainbow promise bears ; 

Summer decks the ripening plain ; 



L)ol OOBB'S STEAK | K. 

Autumn sings amid liis a 

Guiding home the Loaded wain. 

3. Winter, with his snowy vest, 

Bevels in their blended spoil, 
Lulls the wearied earth to rest, 
Brmcei man for future toil. 

4. Morning, bright with golden rays, 

Evening, dark with ebon pall, 

Speak, in varied tones, thy praise, 
ohiteot and Sire of all! 

5. We, for whom yon graves are drei 

Yon green vales their treasures pour, 
Still by liberal Nature blessed 
With her most luxuriant store : 

6. We, to whom indulgent skies 

Plenty, health, and paaoo impart, 
Bid, in fragrant offerings, rise 
Incense from the grateful heart 



LESSON CCXV. 

SELF-INTEREST. DIALOGUE BETW T EEN TWO NEIGHBORS. 

[Enter Derby and Scrapewell.] 
Derby. Good morning, neighbor Scrapewell. I have half a 

dozen miles to ride to-day, and should be extremely obliged if you 

would lend me your gray mare. 

Scrapewell. I should be happy, friend Derby, to oblige you, 

but am under a necessity of going immediately to the mill with 

three bags of corn. My wife wants the meal this very morning. 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 535 

Der. Then she must want it still, for I can assure you the mill 
does not go to-day. I heard the miller tell Will Davis that the 
water was too low. 

Scrape. You do not say so ! That is quite unlucky ; for, in 
that case, I shall be obliged to gallop off to town for the meal. 
My wife would comb my head for me if I should neglect it. 

Der. I can save you this journey : I have plenty of meal at 
home, and will lend your wife as much as she wants. 

Scrape. Ah ! neighbor Derby, I am sure your meal will never 
suit my wife. You can not conceive how whimsical she is. 

Der. If she were ten times more whimsical than she is, I am 
certain she would like it ; for you sold it to me yourself, and you 
assured me it was the best you ever had. 

Scrape. Yes, yes, that 's true, indeed ; I always have the best 
of every thing. You know, neighbor Derby, that no one is more 
ready to oblige than I am ; but I must tell you the mare this 
morning refused to- eat hay ; and truly I am afraid she will not 
carry you. 

Der. Oh, never fear ; I will feed her well with oats on the road. 

Scrape. Oats, neighbor ; oats are very dear. 

Der. They are so, indeed ; but no matter for that. When I 
have a good job in view, I never stand for trifles. 

Scrape. It is very slippery ; and I am really afraid she will 
fall, and break your neck. 

Der. Give yourself no uneasiness about that. The mare is 
certainly sure-footed; and, besides, you were just now talking 
yourself of galloping her to town. 

Scrape. Well, then, to tell you the plain truth, though I wish 
to oblige you with all my heart, my saddle is torn quite in pieces, 
and I have just sent my bridle to be mended. 

Der. Luckily, I have both a bridle and a saddle hanging up at 
home. 

Scrape. Ah ! that may be ; but I am sure your saddle will never 
fit my mare. 

Der. Why then I '11 borrow neighbor Clodpole's. 

Scrape. Clodpole's ! His will no more fit than yours does. 



636 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

Der. At the worst, then, 1 will go to my good friend, squire 
Jones. lie lias half a score of them; and I am sure he will land 
me one that will lit her. 

Scrape, You know, friend Derby, that no one is more willing to 
oblige his neighbors than I am. I d . assure you the beast should 
be ;ii your service with all my heart; but she has not been tarried, 
1 believe, for three weeks past Her foretop and mane want 
combing and cutting very much, [f anj one should see her in 
her present plight, it would ruin the Bale of her. 

Der. 0! a hone ■ booh curried, and my son Sam shall des- 
patch her at once. 

/'. ¥ea, very likely; but I this moment recollect the 
creature has no shoes on. 

Der. Well, is there not a blacksmith bard by? 

Scrape. What, that tinker of a Dobson] J would not trust 
such a bungler to shoe a goat. No, no; none but uncle Tom 
Thumper is capable of shoeing my mare. 

Der. As good luck will have it, then, i shall pass right by his 
door. 

Scrape. [Call*'/"/ M kti 80».] Timothy, Timothy! [Enter 
Timothy ^\ Sere's neighbor Derby, who wants the loan of the 
gray mare to ride to town to-day. You know the skin was rub- 
bed off her bark last week a hand's breadth or more. [He gives 
Tim a wink.] However, 1 believe she's well enough by this time. 
You know, Tim, how ready I am to oblige my neighbors, And, 
indeed, we ought to do all the good we can in this world. We 
must certainly let neighbor Derby have her, if she will possibly 
answer his purpose. Yes, yes ; I see plainly by Tim's counte- 
nance, neighbor Derby, that he's disposed to oblige you. I would 
not have refused you the mare for the worth of her. If I had, I 
should have expected you would have refused me in your turn. 
None of my neighbors can accuse me of being backward in doing 
them a kindness. Come, Timothy, what do you say ? 

Tim. What do I say ? father ! Why, I say, sir, that I am no 
less ready than you are to do a neighborly kindness. But the 
mare is by no means capable of performing the journey. About 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 537 

a hand's breadth did you say, sir ? Why, the skin is torn from 
the poor creature's back of the bigness of your great brimmed hat. 
And, besides, I have promised her, as soon as she is able to travel, 
to Ned Saunders, to carry a load of apples to market. 

Scrape. Do you hear that, neighbor ? I am very sorry matters 
turn out thus. I would not have disobliged you for the price of 
two such mares. Believe me, neighbor Derby, I am really sorry 
for your sake, that matters turn out thus. 

Der. And I as much for yours, neighbor Scrapewell ; for, to tell 
you the truth, I received a letter this morning from Mr. Griffin, 
who tells me, if I will be in town this day, he will give me the 
offer of all that lot of timber, which he is about cutting down, 
upon the back of Cobble-Hill ; and I intended you should have 
shared half of it, which would have been not less than fifty dol- 
lars in your pocket. But — 

Scrape. Fifty dollars, did you say ? 

Der. Ay, truly did I ; but, as your mare is out of order, Til go 
and see if I can get old Roan, the blacksmith's horse. 

Scrape. Old Roan ! My mare is at your service, neighbor. 
Here, Tim, tell Ned Saunders he can not have the mare. Neigh- 
bor Derby wants her ; and I won't refuse so good a friend any 
thing he asks for. 

Der. But what are you to do for meal ? 

Scrape. My wife can do without it this fortnight, if you want 
the mare so long. 

Der. But then your saddle is all in pieces. 

Scrape. I meant the old one. I have bought a new one since, 
and you shall have the first use of it. 

Der. And you would have me call at Thumper's, and get her 
shod? 

Scrape. No, no ; I had forgotten to tell you, that I let neigh- 
bor Dobson shoe her last week by way of trial ; and, to do him 
justice, I must own he shoes extremely well. 

Der. But if the poor creature has lost so much skin from off her 
back — 

Scrape. Poh, poh ! That is just one of our Tim's large stories. 
23* 



538 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

I do assure you, it was Dot at first bigger than my thumb nail; 
and I am certain it has Dot grown any -ince. 

J)<r. At least, however, let her have something she will -at, 
since she refuses hay. 

;i.|, indeed, refuse hay this morning ; hut the only 
reasoo was that she was orammed full otoatt. You have nothing 
to fear, neighbor; the mare is in perfect trim ; and she will skim 

..i the ground like a bird I wish yon a good joi 
and a profitable job. 



LESSON CCXVL 



THE TRAINING OK Till: INTELLECT. — EXTRACT FROM AN ADDRESS 
DELIVERED BEFOKK THE TEACHERS 1 ASSOCIATION IX TIIE CITY 
OF NEW TORE, MAY, 1849. — D. II. 0RD1TENDEN. 

1. The third department of teaching i> education, or the art of 
training the intellect t<> reason correctly on given principles, to 
rely on it< own deductions, to invent its own demonstrations, aDd 
to imparl its own knowledge readily and correctly to another. 
llow >hall it be thu> educated I I answer, as before, develop the 
faculties, which God gene >t, sparing no paint to preserve it unin- 

l i tl its original proportions. 

2. It is in this department of teaching that the present method 
most signally tails. Examine the text-books : the manner, in which 
the lessons are taught and learned. Observe the efforts made to 
impress the subjects of study upon the memory, or to retain them by 
some principle of arbitrary, or fictitious association, and you will 
then see how much attention has been given to one of the lesser 
faculties of the human mind to the neglect, and often to the ex- 
clusion of the greater. 

3. Much is said about cultivating the memory and helping 
scholars to remember, while very little is said about so presenting 
the principles that they shall be able, by understanding, so to apply 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 539 

and use them, that these principles shall become food for thought 
in after years, rather than useless lumber in the mental garret. 
Oftentimes general principles are wholly neglected, and the whole 
time and attention of the pupil are given to bare and isolated facts. 
Is it wonderful, that after even years of such training, the teacher 
is found complaining that, " his pupils do not love study," " do not 
admire matters of science," " seem to be more pleased with matters 
of little worth." 

4. Think you, the light literature of the present day would be 
thus eagerly sought, did its writers regard the order of nature as 
do the writers of our scientific works ? I think not, nor will any 
one convince me to the contrary by any argument asserting, that 
" the natural difference in the constitution of these different sub- 
jects gives rise to a difference of interest," so long as I know it to 
be an incontrovertible fact, that not among the devotees of this 
ephemeral literature are to be found the greatest bookworms, the 
most untiring readers. 

5. On the contrary, would you find whole lives, and long lives 
too, devoted to books, to study ; go seek, and you will find them 
among the philosophers, the reformers, the sages of the past and 
the present. Indeed the sacrifices made at the shrine of science by 
her devotees, both in extent and amount, far exceeds that of the 
devotees of pleasure, of honor, of superstition, or, to the shame of 
man be it spoken, the homage rendered to him, whose we are. It 
is not, I repeat, in the nature of the subjects that their general ac- 
ceptation thus differs, but in the difference of their presentation 
and inculcation. 

6. This radical error must, of course, be followed by its ever at- 
tendant train of evils, whose sole and specific remedy is the removal 
of their cause. To the means for this, I asked your attention in 
the outset : your time and patience, already taxed so long, I can 
now tax no longer. As I began this rough sketch with an asser- 
tion of my mental creed, so I close it. God made all things, each 
individually good in the order of its creation, nor was the human 
intellect then an exception. 

?. When all was finished, he surveyed the relations of each to 



540 COBB'S BPSAS 

the other and to the whole, and pronounced it all, with marked 
emphasis, " t<> !»■ good," nor (Ikk waa the human intellect an ex- 
ception. In lii- subsequent dealings with the race, both his physi- 
cal and moral law- aiv precisely adapted t<> beings endowed with 
this primary human intellect, and to such only. Hence, 1 infer, 
that it remains the same "from the beginning until now." and that 
it will ever so remain. 

8. In conclusion, My Fellow Teachers, allow me I 
the sentiment, as a common resolve, that, let others do as they 
may, in "in- dealings with this wonderful piece of Divine mecha- 
nism, nothing shall prevent as from following the indications of liis 
wisdom, everywhere scattered around ns in such unstinted profu- 
sion. And that our efforts, humble though they may be, shall do 
something in restoring man to his primal rank in the Divine crea- 
tion, that he he do longer, a- dow, the great and only exception 
to its primitive purify, harmony, beauty, and loveliness. And 

when heath find- US, may it be onthe battle plain with our armor 
on. '1 — opponents and combatants of error: Un- 

ready defender- of the truth. 



LESSON CCXVII. 

MEMORY. W. G. CLARK. 



1. 'Tis sweet, to remember! I would not forego 

The charm which the Past o'er the Present can throw, 

For all the gay visions that Fancy may weave 

In her web of illusion, that shines to deceive. 

We know not the future, the past we have felt, 

Its cherished enjoyments the bosom can melt ; 

Its raptures anew o'er our pulses may roll, 

When thoughts of the morrow fall cold on the soul. 

2. 'Tis sweet, to remember ! When storms are abroad, 
We see in the rainbow, the promise of God : 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 541 

The day may be darkened, but far in the west, 
In vermilion and gold, sinks the sun to his rest ; 
With smiles like the morning he passeth away : 
Thus the beams of delight on the spirit can play, 
When in calm reminiscence we gather the flowers, 
Which Love scattered round us in happier hours. 

3. 'Tis sweet, to remember ! When friends are unkind, 
When their coldness and carelessness shadow the mind : 
Then, to draw back the veil which envelops a land, 
Where delectable prospects in beauty expand ; 

To smell the green fields, the fresh waters to hear, 
Whose once fairy music enchanted the ear ; 
To drink in the smiles that delighted us then, 
To list the fond voices of childhood again, 
Oh ! this sad heart, like a reed that is bruised, 
Binds up, when the banquet of Hope is refused. 

4. 'Tis sweet, to remember ! And naught can destroy 
The balm-breathing comfort, the glory, the joy, 
Which spring from that fountain, to gladden our way, 
When the changeful and faithless desert or betray. 

I would not forget ! though my thoughts should be dark : 
O'er the ocean of life, I look back from my bark, 
And I see the lost Eden, where once I was blest, 
A type and a promise of heavenly rest. 



LESSON CCXVIII. 

DIALOGUE BETWEEN COLONEL RIVERS AND SIR HARRY. 

Sir Harry, Colonel, your most obedient : I am come upon 
the old business ; for, unless I am allowed to entertain hopes of 
Miss Rivers, I shall be the most miserable of all human beings. 



542 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

Col. Riv. Sir Harry, I have already told you by letter, and I 
now tell you personally, I can not listen to your proposal* 

Sir liar. No, sir ? 

Riv. No, sir; I have promised my daughter to Mr. Sidney ; 
do you know that, sir ? 

Sir J far. I do: but what then? Engagements of this kind 
you know — 

Riv. So then, you know 1 have promised her to Mr. Sidney! 

Sir Mar, I do; but, I also know that matters are not anally 
Bettled between Mr. Sidney and yon ; and, 1 moreover know, that 
his fortune i- by no means equal to mine; therefore — 

Riv. sir Barry, I -t me ask you one question before you make 
your consequence. 

Sir ll'ir. A thousand, if you please, sir. 

Riv. Why, then, BIT, let me ask you, what you have ever ob- 
served in me, or my conduct, that you desire me so familiarly to 
break my word \ I thought, sir, you considered me as a man of 
honor. 

Sir Jim-. And so I do, sir, a man of the nicest honor. 

Riv. And yet, sir, you ask me to violate the sanctity of my 
word ; and tell me directly, that it is my interest to be a rascal. 

Sir Har. I really do not understand you, Colonel : I thought 
I was talking to a man who knew the world ; and as you have 
not signed — 

Riv. Why, this is mending matters with a witness ! and so you 
think because I am not legally bound, I am under no necessity of 
keeping my word ! Sir Harry, laws were never made for men of 
honor ; they want no bond but the rectitude of their own senti- 
ments ; and laws are of no use but to bind the villains of 
society. 

Sir Har. Well ! But my dear Colonel, if you have no regard 
for me, show some little regard for your daughter. 

Riv. I show the greatest regard for my daughter by giving her 
to a man of honor ; and, I must not be insulted with any farther 
repetition of your proposals. 

Sir Har. Insult you, Colonel ! Is the offer of my alliance an 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 543 

insult? Is iny readiness to make what settlements you think 
proper — 

JRiv. Sir Harry, I should consider the offer of a kingdom an in- 
sult, if it were to be purchased by the violation of my word. Be- 
sides, though my daughter shall never go a beggar to the arms of 
her husband, I would rather see her happy than rich ; and if she 
has enough to provide handsomely for a young family, and some- 
thing to spare for the exigencies of a worthy friend, I shall think 
her as affluent as if she were mistress of Mexico. 

Sir Har. Well, Colonel, I have done ; but I believe — 
Riv. Well, Sir Harry, as our conference is done, we will, if 
you please, retire to the ladies. I shall be always glad of your 
acquaintance, though I can not receive you as son-in-law ; for, a 
union of interest I look upon as a union of dishonor, and consider 
marriage for money, at best but a legal prostitution. 



LESSON CCXIX. 

DIALOGUE BETWEEN LOVEGOLD AND JAMES. FIELDING. 

[Lovegold alone.] [Enter James.] 

Lovegold. Where have you been ? I have wanted you above 
an hour. 

James. Whom do you want, sir, your coachman or your cook ? 
for I am both one and the other. 

Love. I want my cook. 

James. I thought, indeed, it was not your coachman ; for you 
have had no great occasion for him since your last pair of horses 
were starved ; but your cook, sir, shall wait upon you in an instant. 
[Puts off his coachman } s great-coat, and appears as a cook.] Now, 
sir, I am ready for your commands. 

Love. I am engaged this evening to give a supper. 

James. A supper, sir! I have not heard the word this half- 
year ; a dinner, indeed, now and then ; but for a supper, I am 
almost afraid, for want of practice, my hand is out. 



544 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

Love. Leave off your saucy jesting, and see that you provide a 
good supper. 

James. That may 1><- doth- with a great deal of m y, sir. 

Lore I- the mischief in you I Always money] Oan y«»u say 
nothing <•!><' but money, money, money '. My children, mj 
vants, my relatives, ran pronounce nothing but money. 

James, Well, Bir; hut how many will there be at table? 

Low, About eight or ten ; but 1 will have a supper dressed hut 
Jit ; for if there be enough lor eight, there is enough fox ten. 

James, Suppose, sir, at one end, a handsome soup ; at the other, 
a fine Westphalia ham and chickens; on one Bide, a fillet of veal; 
on the other a turkey, OX rather a bustard, which may be had for 
about a guinea, — 

Love. Zounds ! is the fellow providing an entertainment for my 
lord mayor and the court of aldermen ? 

James, Then a ragout — 

Love. I'll have no ragout. Would you burst the good people? 

James, Then pray, sir, Bay what will you have? 

Love Why >ee and provide Bomething to cloy their stomachs: 
let there be two good dishes of soup, maigre ; a Jarge suet-pud- 
ding; some dainty fat pork-pie, very fat ; a fine small lean breast 
of mutton, and a large dish with two artichokes. There; that's 
plenty and variety. 

James. Oh, dear — 

Love. Plenty and variety. 

James. But, sir, you must have some poultry. 

Love. No ; I'll have none. 

James. Indeed, sir, you should. 

Love. Well, then, kill the old hen, for she has done laying. 

James. Mercy ! sir, how the folks will talk of it ; indeed, people 
say enough of you already. 

Love. Eh ! why what do the people say, pray ? 

James. Ah, sir, if I could be assured you would not be angry. 

Love. Not at all ; for I am always glad to hear what the world 
says of me. 

James. Why, sir, since you will have it then, they make a jest 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 545 

of you everywhere ; nay, of your servants, on your account. One 
says, you pick a quarrel with them quarterly, in order to find an 
excuse to pay them no wages. 

Love. Poh ! poh ! 

James. Another says, you were taken one night stealing your 
own oats from your own horses. 

Love. That must be a lie ; for I never allow them any. 

James. In a word, you are the by-word everywhere ; and you 
are never mentioned, but by the names of covetous, stingy, scraping, 
old— 

Love. Get along, you impudent villain ! 

James. Nay, sir, you said you would not be angry. 

Love. Get out, you dog ! you — 



LESSON CCXX. 

HAMILTON AND JAY. DR. F. L. HAWKS. 

1. The fame of Hamilton, like his parts, we deem to shine 
brighter and farther than Jay's, but we are not sure that it should 
be so, or rather we are are quite sure it should not. For, when we 
come to examine and compare their relative course, and its bearing 
on the country and its fortunes, the reputation of Hamilton we find 
to go as far beyond his practical share in it, as Jay's falls short of 
his. Hamilton's civil official life was a brief and single, though 
brilliant one. - 

2. Jay's numbered the years of a generation, and exhausted 
every department of diplomatic, civil, and judicial trust. In fidelity 
to their country, both were pure to their heart's core ; yet was 
Hamilton loved, perhaps, more than trusted, and Jay trusted, per- 
haps, more than loved. Such were they, we deem, in differing, if 
not contrasted, points of character. Their lives, too, when viewed 
from a distance, stand out in equally striking, but much more 
painful, contrast. 



546 COBB'S SPEAKKi;. 

3. Jay's viewed as a whole, has in it a completeness of parts, 
such as a nicer critic demands for the perfectioo of an epic poem, 
with its beginning of promise, its heroic middle, ami its peaceful 
end, and partaking, too, somewhat of the same cold itatalinmn, 
noble, however, still and glorious, and e?er pointing, as such poem 
does, to the stars. The life of Hamilton, on the other hand, 
broken and fragmentary, begun in the darkness of romantic interest, 
running on into the sympathy of all high passion, and at length 

breaking off in the midst, like Some hall-told talc of sorrow, amidst 

tears and blood, even as docs the theme of the tragic p 

4. The name of Hamilton, therefore, was a nam.' to conjure with, 
that of Jay's to swear by. Hamilton had his frailties, arising out 
of passion, a- tragic heroes have. Jay's name was faultless, and 
his course passionless, a- becomes the epic leader, and, in point of 
fact was, while living, a name at which frailty blushed, and cor- 
ruption trembled If we ask whence, humanly speaking, came 
such disparity of the fate between equals, the stricter morals, the 
happier lite, the more peaceful death, to what can we trace it, but 
to the healthful power of religion, over the heart and conduct? 

5. Was not this, we ask, the ruling secret? Hamilton was a 
Christian in his youth, and a penitent Christian, we doubt not, on 
his dying bed ; but Jay « :ian. so far as man may judge, 
every day and hour of his life. He had but one rule, the gospel 
of Christ ; in that he was nurtured ; ruled by that, through grace 
he lived ; resting on that, in prayer, he died. 

6. Admitting, then, as we do, both names to be objects of our 
highest sympathetic admiration, yet, with the name of Hamilton, 
as the master says of tragedy, the lesson is given, " with pity and 
in fear." Not so with that of Jay ; with him we walk fearless, as 
in the steps of one who was a Christian, as well as a Patriot. 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 547 

LESSON CCXXL 

DIALOGUE BETWEEN CHARLES II. AND WILLIAM PENN. ERIEND OF 

PEACE. 

[It is said that, when William Perm was about to sail from England for 
Pennsylvania, he went to take leave of the kiDg, and the following conver- 
sation took place :] 

Charles. Well, friend William ! I have sold you a noble prov- 
ince in North America ; but still I suppose you have no thoughts 
of going thither yourself. 

Penn. Yes, I have, I assure thee, Friend Charles, and I am just 
come to bid thee farewell. 

Charles. What ! venture yourself among the savages of North 
America ! Why, man, what security have you that you will not 
be in their war-kettle in two hours after setting foot on their 
shores ? 

Penn. The best security in the world. 

Charles. I doubt that, Friend William. ; I have no idea of any 
security against those cannibals, but in a regiment of good soldiers, 
with their muskets and bayonets. And mind, I tell you before- 
hand, that, with all my good-will for you and your family, to 
whom I am under obligations, I will not send a single soldier with 
you. 

Penn. I want none of thy soldiers, Charles ; I depend on some- 
thing better than thy soldiers. 

Charles. Ah ! and what may that be ? 

Penn. Why, I depend upon themselves ; on the workings of 
their own hearts ; on their notions of justice ; on their moral sense. 

Charles. A fine thing, this same moral sense, no doubt ; but I 
fear you will not find much of it among the Indians of North 
America. 

Penn. And why not among them, as well as others ? 

Charles. Because, if they had possessed any, they would not 
have treated my subjects as barbarously as they have done. 

Penn. There is no proof to the contrary, friend Charles. Thy 



548 COBB'S SPEAK B & 

subjects were the aggressors. When thy subjects first weni to North 
America, they found these poor people the fondest and kindest 
creatures in the world. Every day they would watch for them to 
come ashore, and hasten to meet them, and feast them <>n the best 
fish, and venison, and corn, which was all they had. In return for 
thia hospitality of the lavages, as we call them, thy subjects, termed 
Christians, seized on their country and rich hunting-grounds, for 
farms for themselves I Now is it to be wondered at, that these 
much-injured people should have been driven t«> desperation by 
such injustice : and that, burning with revenge, they should have 
committed boi sc I 

Charles, Well, then, 1 hope you wiU not complain when they 
come to treat you in the same manner. 

/' 'ii. I am not afraid of it. 

Charlet. Ay ! Bow will you a\did it i You mean to get their 
hunting-grounds too, I suppose? 

Perm. Sea, bat not by driving these poor people away from 
tin in. 

Charles. No, indeed ! How then will you get the land- '. 

Penn. I mean to buy their lands of them. 

Charles, Buy their lands of them! Why, man, you have 
already bought them of me. 

Penn. Fes, 1 know I have, and at a dear rate too ; but I did it 
only to get thy good-will, not that I thought thou hadst any right 
to their lands. 

Charles. Zounds, man ! no right to their lands ? 

Penn. No, friend Charles, no right at all : what right hast thou 
to their lands? 

Charles. Why, the right of discovery, to be sure ; the right 
which the Pope and all Christian kings have agreed to give one 
another. 

Penn. The right of discovery ! A kind of strange right, indeed ! 
Now suppose, friend Charles, that some canoe-loads of these In- 
dians, crossing the sea, and discovering thy island of Great Brit- 
ain, were to claim it as their own, and set it up for sale over thy 
head, what wouldst thou think of it? 



COBB'S SPEAKEK. 549 

Charles. Why, why, why, I must confess, I should think it a 
piece of impudence in them. 

Penn. Well, then, how canst thou, a Christian, and a Christian 
prince too, do that which thou so utterly condemnest in these 
people whom thou callest savages ? Yes, friend Charles ; and 
suppose again, that these Indians, on thy refusal to give up the 
island of Great Britain, were to make war on thee, and, having 
weapons more destructive than thine, were to destroy many of thy 
subjects, and to drive the rest away, wouldst thou not think it 
horribly cruel ? 

Charles. I must say that I should, friend William : how can I 
say otherwise ? 

Penn. Well, then, how can I, who call myself a Christian, do 
what I should abhor even in heathens ? No, I will not do it. But 
I will buy the right of the proper owners, even of the Indians 
themselves. By doing this, I shall imitate God himself, in his 
justice and mercy, and thereby ensure his blessing on my colony, 
if I should ever live to plant one in North America. 



LESSON CCXXIL 

GRECIAN AND EOMAN ELOQUENCE. J. Q. ADAMS. 

1. In the flourishing periods of Athens and Rome, eloquence was 
power. It was at once the instrument and the spur to ambition. 
The talent of public speaking was the key to the highest digni- 
ties ; the passport to the supreme dominion of the state. The 
rod of Hermes was the sceptre of empire ; the voice of oratory was 
the thunder of Jupiter. 

2. The most powerful of human passions was enlisted in the 
cause of eloquence ; and eloquence in return was the most effec- 
tual auxiliary to the passions. In proportion to the wonders she 
achieved, was the eagerness to acquire the faculties of this mighty 
magician. 



550 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

3. Oratory was taught, as the occupation of life. The course 
of instruction commenced with the infant in the cradle, and con- 
tinued to the meridian of manhood. It was made the funda- 
mental object of education, and every other part of instruction for 
childhood, and of discipline for youth, was bent to its accommo- 
dation. 

4. Arts, science, letters, were to be thoroughly studied and in- 
vestigated, upon the maxim, that an orator must be a man of 
amrersa] knowledge. Moral duties leere inculcated, because none 
but a good man could be an orator. Wisdom, learning, virtue 
herself, wen- estimated by their subsemenoy to the purposes of 
eloquence ; and the whole duty of man consisted in making him- 
self an accomplished public speaker. 



LESSON CCXXIII. 
new England's dead. — isaac mclellan jun. 

1. New Em. land's dead! New England's dead! 

On every hill they lie ; 
On every field of strife, made red 
By bloody victory. 

2. Each valley, where the battle poured 

Its red and awful tide, 
Beheld the brave New England sword 
With slaughter deeply dyed. 

3. Their bones are on the northern hill, 

And on the southern plain, 
By brook and river, lake, and rill, 
And by the roaring main. 

4. The land is holy where they fought, 

And holy where they fell ; 



COBB'S SPEAKEE. 551 

For by their blood that land was bought, 

The land they loved so well. 
Then glory to that valiant band, 
The honored saviors of the land ! 

5. Oh ! few and weak their numbers' were, 

A handful of brave men ; 
But to their God they gave their prayer, 

And rushed to battle then. 
The God of battles heard their cry, 
And sent to them the victory. 

6. They left the ploughshare in the mould, 
Their flocks and herds without a fold, 
The sickle in the unshorn grain, 

The corn, half-garnered, on the plain, 

And mustered in their simple dress, 

For wrongs to seek a stern redress ; 

To right those wrongs, come weal, come wo, 

To perish, or o'ercome their foe. 



LESSON CCXXIV. 

OUR BRIGHTEST PROSPECTS. MRS. L. H. CRUTTENDEN. 

1. Our brightest prospects ! what are they? 

Those that come in glorious dreams, 
On wings to waft the soul away 

To sunny climes, where beauty seems 
To make the very air of heaven 
Breathe all of life and love here given'? 

2. Or does ambition fill the heart, 

With false, yet bright, bewitching spell, 



552 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

Which almost rends the veil apart, 

Which round the inner soul doth d\% ell ; 
And though it win- all earth ran gHre 
In purer realms 'twill cease t<> h 

3. Our brightest prospects ! are they tbot 

Which love with angel power makes, 
While round the heart a hearea grows, 
Thatev'iy link of gloom there breaks, 
Till life seems one long, happy dream 
Where thought- of 1 », a ih would mock'ry seem? 

4. Our brightest prospects ! do they lie, 

In wealth untold, or power -ujueme, 
Which all but happiness can buy 
Ever the Poet's brightest theme? 

Then Death must wake us from our sleep, 
While Angels o'er our fall shall weep. 

5. Our brightest prospects 1 to the soul, 
Life immortal hath been given, 
And heeded not tho' years may roll, 

There come full-oft blest thoughts of Heaven, 
And sad, or gay, the truth still prove, 
" Our brightest prospects" are above ! 



LESSON CCXXV. 

THE COLONISTS. DIALOGUE BETWEEN MR. BARLOW AND HIS 

CHILDREN, TO SHOW THEM WHAT KIND OF PROFESSIONS ARE 
THE MOST USEFUL IN SOCIETY, BUT PARTICULARLY IN A NEW 
SETTLEMENT. DR. AIKEN. 

Mr. Barlow. Come, my boys, I have a new play for you. I 
will be the founder of a colony ; and yon shall be people of differ- 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 553 

ent trades and professions, coming to offer yourselves to go with 
me. What are you, Arthur ? 

Arthur. I am a farmer, sir. 

Mr. B. Very well. Farming is the chief thing we have to de- 
pend upon. The farmer puts the seed into the earth, and takes 
care of it when it is grown to ripe corn ; without the farmer we 
should have no bread. But you must work very diligently ; there 
will be trees to cut down, and roots to dig out, and a great deal of 
hard labor. 

Ar. I shall be ready to do my part. 

Mr. B. Well, then, I shall take you willingly, and as many 
more such good fellows as I can find. We shall have land 
enough, and you may go to work as soon as you please. Now for 
the next. 

James. I am a miller, sir. 

Mr. B. A very useful trade ! Our corn must be ground, or it 
will do us but little good. But what must we do for a mill, my 
friend ? 

James. I suppose we must make one, sir. 

Mr. B. Then we must take a mill-wright with us, and carry 
mill-stones. Who is next ? 

Charles. I am a carpenter, sir. 

Mr. B. The most necessary man that could offer. We shall 
find you work enough, never fear. There will be houses to be built, 
fences to be made, and chairs and tables besides. But all our 
timber is growing ; we shall have hard work to fell it, to saw 
boards and planks, and to frame and raise buildings. Can you 
help us in this ? 

Charles. I will do my best, sir. 

Mr. B. Then I engage you, but I advise you to bring two or 
three able assistants along with you. 

William. I am a blacksmith. 

Mr. B. An excellent companion for the carpenter. We can 
not do without either of you. You must bring your great bellows, 
anvil, and vice, and we will set up a forge for you as soon as we 
arrive. By the by, we shall want a mason for that. 

24 • 



554 B A K E K. 

Edward. I am one, sir. 

J//-. 2?. Though we may live in log houses at lir>t, we shall 
want brick work, or stone work, for chimneys, hearths, md ovens, 
so there will 1»«; employment (or ■ mason. Can you make bricks, 
and burn lime I 

Ed. I will try what I can do, BUT. 

Mr. B. No man can do more. I engage you. Who o 
next? 

Fronds. I am a shoemaker, sir. 

Mr. B. Shoes we can not well do without, but I fear we shall 
get no leather. 

Fran, But I can dress skins, sir. 

Mr. B. Can you I Then yOU arc a useful fellow. 1 will have 
you, though 1 $ iges. 

George. I am a tailor, sir. 

Mr. B. We must not go naked; so there will be work for a 
tailor. But you arc not above mending, I hope, for we must not 
mind wearing patched cloth.-, while we work in the woods. 

Geo. I am not. sir. 

Mr. JJ. Then I engage you, too. 

Henry, 1 am a silversmith, sir. 

Mr. B. Then, my friend, you can not go to a worse place than 
a new 7 colony to set up your trade in. 

Hen. But I understand clock and watch making too. 

Mr. B. We shall want to know how the time goes, but we can 
not afford to employ you. At present, I advise you to stay where 
you are. 

Jasper. I am a barber and hair-dresser. 

Mr. B. What can we do with you ? If you will shave our 
men's rough beards once a week, and crop their hair once a quarter, 
and be content to help the carpenter the rest of the time, we will 
take you. But you will have no ladies' hair to curl, or gentlemen 
to powder, I assure you. 

Louis. I am a doctor, sir. 

Mr. B. Then, sir, you are very welcome ; w r e shall some of us 
be sick, and we are likely to get cuts, and bruises, and broken 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 555 

bones. You will be very useful. We shall take you with 
pleasure. 

Maurice. I am a lawyer, sir. 

Mr. B. Sir, your most obedient servant. When we are rich 
enough to go to law, we will let you know. 

Oliver. I am a schoolmaster. 

Mr. B. That is a very respectable and useful profession ; as soon 
as our children are old enough, we shall be glad of your services. 
Though we are hard-working men, we mean not to be ignorant ; 
every one among us must be taught reading and writing. Until 
we have employment for you in teaching, if you will keep our ac- 
counts, and at present read sermons to us on Sundays, we shall 
be glad to have you among us. Will you go % 

Oliver. With all my heart, sir. 

Mr. B. Who comes here ? 

Philip. I am a soldier, sir ; will you have me ? 

Mr. B. We are a peaceful people ; and, I hope we shall not be 
obliged to fight. We shall have no occasion for you, unless you 
can be a mechanic or farmer, as well as a soldier. 

Richard. I am a dancing-master, sir. 

Mr, B. A dancing-master t Ha, ha ! And pray, of what use 
do you expect to be in the " back-woods ?" 

Richard. Why, sir, I can teach you how to appear in a draw- 
ing-room. I shall take care that your children know precisely how 
low they must bow when saluting company. In short, I teach 
you the science, which will distinguish you from the savages. 

Mr. B. This may be all very well, and quite to your fancy, but / 
would suggest that we, in a new colony, shall need to pay more 
attention to the raising of corn and potatoes, the feeding of cattle, 
and the preparing of houses to live in, than to the cultivation of 
this elegant " science" as you term it. 

John. I, sir, am a politician, and would be willing to edit a 
newspaper you may wish to have published in your colony. 

Mr. B. Very much obliged to you, Mr. Editor ; but for the 
present, I think you may wisely remain where you are. We shall 
have to labor so much for the first two or three years, that we 



566 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

shall care but little about other matter! than those which concern 
our farms. We certainly must spend some time in reading, but 
I think we can obtain suitable books fur our perusal, with much 
less money than it would require bo support you and your news- 
paper. 

Robert. I am a gentleman, mi - . 

Mr. B. A gentleman ! And what good can you do us? 

Robert. I intend to spend most of my time in walking about, 
and overseeing the men at work. 1 shall be very willing to assist 
you with niv u<lrin\ whenever 1 think it necessary. As for my 
support, that need not trouble you much. I expect to shoot game 
enough for my own eating; you can give me a little bread and a 
few vegetables; and the barber shall be ray servant 

Mr, B. Tray, sir, why should we do all this for you ? 

Robert. Why, sir, that you may have the credit of saying that 
you have one gentleman, at least, in your colony. 

Mr. B. Ha, ha, ha ! A fine gentleman, truly ! When we de- 
sire the honor of your company, sir, we will send for you. 



LESSON CCXXVI. 

8CENE FROM M VIRGINICS." J. S. KNOWLES. 

Lucius. Virginius ! you are wanted 
In Rome. 

Virginius. On what account ? 

Luc. On your arrival 
You will learn. 

Vir. How ! is it something can not be told 
At once ? Speak out, boy ! Ha ! your looks are loaded 
With matter. Is it so heavy that your tongue 
Can not unburden them ? Your brother left 
The camp on duty yesterday : hath aught 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 557 

Happened to him ? Did he arrive in safety ? 
Is he safe ? Is he well ? 

Luc. He is both safe and well. 

Vir. What then ? What then ? tell me the matter, Lucius. 

Luc. I have said 
It shall be told you. 

Vir. Shall ! I stay not for 
That " shall," unless it be so close at hand 
It stop me not a moment ; 'tis too long 
A coming. Fare you well, my Lucius. 

Luc. Stay, 
Virginius ; hear me with patience. 

Vir. Well, 
I am patient. 

Luc. Your Virginia — 

Vir. Stop, my Lucius ! 
I am cold in every member of my frame ! 
If it is prophetic, Lucius, of thy news, 
Give me such token as her tomb would, Lucius, 
I will bear it better. Silence. 

Luc. You are still — 

Vir. I thank thee, Jupiter ! I am still a father ! 

Luc. You are, Virginius. Yet — 

Vir. What ! is she sick \ 

Luc. No. 

Vir. Neither sick nor dead ! All well ! No harm ! 
Nothing amiss ! Each guarded quarter safe, 
That fear may lay him down and sleep, and yet 
This sounding alarm ! I swear thou tell'st 
A story strangely. Out with it ! I have patience 
For any thing, since my Virginia lives, 
And lives in health ! 

Luc. You are required in Rome 
To answer a most novel suit. 

Vir. Whose suit ? 

Luc. The suit of Claudius. 



558 COBB'S SPEAKKK. 

Vir. Claudius ! 

Luc. Him that is client 
To Appius Claudius, the decemvir. 

Vn: What! 
That pander] Sa! Virginia ! Too appear 
To couple them. Wbal makes my fair Virginia 
In company with Claudius f Innocence 
Beside laacivio BBasuitl Whatsuit! 

Answer DM quickly ! Quickly ! lest suspense, 
Beyond what patience can endure, coercing, 
Drive reason from his seat! 

/. te. II-' baa claimed Virginia. 

Vir. Claimed her ! claimed her ! 
On what pretence ? 

Luc. He says she is the child 
Of a slave of his, who sold her to thy wife. 

Vir. Go on : you see I am calm. 

Luc. He seized her in 
The school, and dragged her to the Forum, where 
Appius was giving judgment. 

Vir. Dragged her to 
The Forum ! Well ! I told you, Lucius, 
I would be patient. 

Luc. Numitorius there 
Confronted him. 

Vir. Did he not strike him dead ? 
True, true, I know it was in the presence of 
The decern vir. O ! had I confronted him ! 
Well ! well ! the issue ? Well, o'erleap all else, 
And light upon the issue. Where is she ? 

Luc. I was despatched to fetch thee, ere I could learn. 

Vir. The claim of Claudius, Appius' client ; 
I see the master-cloud, this ragged one, 
That lowers before, moves only in subservience 
To the ascendant of the other, Jove, 
With its own mischief break it and disperse it, 



COBB'S SPEAKEE. 559 

And that be all the ruin ! Patience ! Prudence ! 
Nay, prudence, but no patience. Come ! a slave 
Dragged through the streets in open day J My child ! 
My daughter ! my fair daughter, in the eyes 
Of Rome ! Oh ! I will be patient. Come ! the essence 
Of my best blood, in the free, common ear 
Condemned as vile ! O ! I will be patient. Come ! 
O ! they shall wonder. I will be so patient. 

[Bushes out, followed by Lucius. 



LESSON CCXXVII. 

SPEECH OF KOSSUTH IN INDEPENDENCE HALL, PHILADELPHIA, 
DEC. 24, 1851. 

[The Mayor briefly addressed Kossuth, welcoming him as the nation's 
and the city's guest, and reminding him that in the very Hall in which he 
stood our Revolutionary sires declared the Independence of the Colonies, 
the first great step towards the attainment of the liberties and the pros- 
perity which we now enjoy.] 

1. Sir ; This is, perhaps, the proudest welcome which you could 
give. The very fact of the knowing that I am standing here 
among the happy inheritors of that freedom and independence for 
which your forefathers fought and bled ; the welcome by the happy 
inheritors of the great deeds here, in the very cradle of your glo- 
rious liberties. This circumstance is enough to impress upon my 
mind a religious awe, which inclines my heart silently to raise 
itself to God, wondering at the ways of His Providence, rather 
than to find expression in words. 

2. I will only tell you, sir, what this Independence Hall ; the 
words spoken here, in the act declared here, represent to my mind, 
when I, in my native land, not in the ambition to copy your glory, 
but from a sentiment of duty, and from a conscientiousness that 
my country was also entitled to freedom, did even that which your 
forefathers did here. Your history inspired my people and myself 



560 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

with resolution, with inspiration, with encouragement, and with 
hope. 

3. You succeeded, and we failed ; not because ire were not as 
resolved and a- decid< lie.-, life and all that to man on earth 
is dear, for our fatherland ; but bee were not in m happy 
a condition as you. Foreign armed intei une,andwi 

out of our hands the fruits of already achieved victories. I can tell 
you that much of the spirit of your freedom sod independence, 
and of our republican institutions, came oyer th< f the 

ocean to Qungi 

4. Let me hope that my wry standing here, welcomed by your 
nation, may he a pledge for the future, that the spirit which came 

over i" lie from tlii- place, may yet be attended by that ultimate 

B8 which was your happiness, your glory, and your merit 

ipon that basis you here founded a building of 

human freedom, and of the development of the human intellect, and 

of civilization, prouder, loftier, than that which humanity before 
you has beheld through 5000 years. To your welcome I return 

my most hearty thai; your welcome of the poor exile, but 

in the proud position of your nation's guest 

5. Be thanked lor your hospitality ; he thanked for your wel- 

Be thank d, because I know that the welcome of a f\'-(-, 
mighty, and powerful people like you, is the that that 

might} i powerful people feck inclined to become the ex- 

ecutive power of the laws of Nature, and of nature's God, which 
were proclaimed out of the very ark of your hopes, to be not your 
right alone, but the right of all humanity. 



LESSON CCXXVIII. 

A MOTHER'S GIFT. THE BIBLE. W. FERGUSON. 

1. Remember, love, who gave thee this, 
When other days shall come, 



COBB'S SPEAKEE. 561 

When she who had thine earliest kiss 

Sleeps in her narrow home, 
Bemember, 'twas a mother gave 
The gift to one she 'd die to save ! 

2. That mother sought a pledge of love, 

The holiest for her son ; 
And from the gifts of God above, 

She chose a goodly one : 
She chose for her beloved boy, 
The source of light, and life, and joy ; 

3. And bade him keep the gift, that when 

The parting hour should come, 
They might have hope to meet again, 

In an eternal home. 
She said his faith in this would be 
Sweet incense to her memory. 

4. And should the scoffer in his pride, 

Laugh that fond faith to scorn, 
And bid him cast the pledge aside, 

That he from youth hath borne, 
She bade him pause, and ask his breast, 
If she or he had loved him best. 

5. A parentis blessing on her son 

Goes with this holy thing ; 
The love that would retain the one, 

Must to the other cling. 
Remember ! 'tis no idle toy : 
A mother's gift ! remember, boy ! 
24* 



562 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

LESSON OOXXIX. 

EULOGY ON ADAMS AND JEFFERSON. EDWARD EVERETT. 

1. They have gone to the companions of their cares, of their 

toils. It is well with them. The treasures of America are now in 

n. How long the lilt of our good, and wise, and brave, 

bled then remain with us ! There ■ 

ington; and those who followed him in their country's con- 

, ana now met together with him, and all that illustrious 

company. 

The faithful marble may preserve their image ; the engraven 
may proclaim their worth ; but the humblest sod of Inde- 
pendent America, with nothing but the dew-drops of the morning 
to gild it, is a prouder mausoleum than kings or conquerors can 
The country is their monument. Its independence is their 
epitaph. 

3. But not to their is their praise limited. The whole 
earth is the monument of illustrious men. Wherever an agonizing 
people shall pel : ■ convulsion, for want of a valiant arm 
and a fearless heart, they will cry, in the last accents of despair, 
Oh, for a Washington, an Adam-. n ! Wherever a re- 
generated nation, starting up in it- : T burst the links of 
steel that enchain it, the praise of our Fathers shall be the prelude 
of their triumphal song. 

4. The cotemporary and successive generations of men will dis- 
appear. In the long lapse of ages, the tribes of America, like 
those of Greece and Rome, may pass away. The fabric of Ameri- 
can Freedom, like all things human, however firm and fair, may 
crumble into dust. But the cause in which these our Fathers 
shone is immortal. They did that, to which no age, no people of 
reasoning men, can be indifferent. 

5. Their eulogy will be uttered in other languages, when those 
we speak, like us who speak them, shall all be forgotten. And 
when the great account of humanity shall be closed at the throne 
of God, in the bright list of his children, who best adorned and 
served it, shall be found the names of our Adams and our Jefferson. 






COBB'S SPEAKER. 563 

LESSON CCXXX. 

SCENE FROM THE TRAGEDY OF CATALINE. REV. G. CROLY. 

[The Senate in session, Lictors present, a Consul in the Chair, Cicero on 
the floor, concluding his speech.] 

Cicero. Our long dispute must close. Take one proof more 
Of this rebellion. Lucius Cataline 
Has been commanded to attend the Senate. 
He dares not come. I now demand your votes ! 
Is he condemned to exile ? 

[Cataline comes in hastily, and flings himself on the bench ; all 
the Senators go over to the other side.] 

Cic. [Turning to Cataline.] Here I repeat the charge, to 
gods and men, 
Of treasons manifold ; that, but this day, 
He has received despatches from the rebels ; 
That he has leagued with deputies from Gaul 
To seize the province ; nay, has levied troops, 
And raised his rebel standard : that but now 
A meeting of conspirators was held 
Under his roof, with mystic rites and oaths, 
Pledged round the body of a murdered slave. 
To these he has no answer. 

Cat. [Rising calmly .] Conscript fathers ! 
I do not rise to waste the night in words ; 
Let that plebeian talk ; 'tis not my trade ; 
But here I stand for right, let him show proofs, 
For Roman right ; though none, it seems, dare stand 
To take their share with me. Ay, cluster there, 
Cling to your master ; judges, Romans ; slaves ! 
His charge is false ; I dare him to his proofs. 
You have my answer. Let my actions speak ! 

Cic. [Interrupting him.] Deeds shall convince you ! Has the 
traitor done ? 



564 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

Cat. But this I will avow, that I have scorned, 
And still do scorn, to bide my Bense of wrong; 
Who brands me on the forehead, breaks my sword, 
Or lavs bloody scourge upon my hark, 
Wrongs me not half so much as he who Bhuts 
The gates of honor on me ; turning out 
The Roman from his birthright ; and for what I 

[Looking around him. 
To fling your offices to every slave ; 
Vipers that creep where man disdains to climb ; 
And having wound their loathsom i the top 

Of this huge mouldering monument of Rome, 
• the nobler man below. 

Cic. This is his answer! Must I bring more proofs? 
Fathers, you know there lives not one of us, 
But lives in peril of his midnight sword. 
Lists of proscriptions have been handed round, 
In which your general properties are made 
Your murderer's hire. 

>/ is heard without, "More prisoners P An officer enters 
with letters for Cicero ; who, after glancing at them., sends them 
around the Senate. Cataline it strongly 'perturbed '.] 

Cic. Fathers of Rome ! If man can be convinced 
By proof, as clear as daylight, here it is ! 
Look on these letters ! Here is a deepdaid plot 
To wreck the provinces : a solemn league, 
Made with all form and circumstance. The time 
Is desperate ; all the slaves are up ; Rome shakes ! 
The heavens alone can tell how near our graves 
"We stand, ev'n here ! The name of Cataline 
Is foremost in the league. He was their king. 
Tried and convicted traitor ! Go from Rome ! 

Cat. [Haughtily rising^ Come, consecrated lictors, from your 
thrones : [To the Senate. 

Fling down your sceptres : take the rod and axe, 
And make the murder as you make the law. 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 565 

Cic. [Interrupting MmJ] Give up the record of his banish- 
ment. [To an officer. 
[The Officer gives it to the Consul in the chair.] 

Cat. [Indignantly.'] Banished from Rome ! What is ban- 
ished but set free 
From daily contact of the things I loathe ? 
" Tried and convicted traitor !" Who says this ? 
Who will prove it, at his peril, on my head ? 
Banished ! I thank you for it. It breaks my chain ! 
I held some slack allegiance till this hour, 
But now my sword is my own. Smile on, my lords ! 
I scorn to count what feelings, withered hopes, 
Strong provocations, bitter, burning wrongs, 
I have within my heart's hot cells shut up, 
To leave you in your lazy dignities. 
But here I stand and scoff you ; here, I fling 
Hatred and full defiance in your face. 
Your Consul is merciful. For this, all thanks. 
He dares not touch a hair of Cataline ! 

[The Consul reads :] " Lucius Sergius Cataline : by the decree 
of the Senate, you are declared an enemy and alien to the state, 
and banished from the territory of the Commonwealth." 

The Consul. Lictors, drive the traitor from the temple ! 

Cat. [Furious.] " Traitor !" I go, but I return. This — trial ! 
Here I devote your Senate ! I have had wrongs 
To stir a fever in the blood of age 
Or make the infant's sinews strong as steel. 
This day is the birth of sorrows! this hour's work 
Will breed proscriptions : look to your hearths, my lords ! 
For there, henceforth shall sit, for household gods, 
Shapes hot from Tartarus ! all shames and crimes ! 
Wan Treachery, with his thirsty dagger drawn ; 
Suspicion, poisoning his brother's cup ; 
Naked Rebellion, with the torch and axe, 
Making his wild sport of your blazing thrones ; 
Till Anarchy comes down on you like Night, 



566 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

And Massacre seals Rome's eternal grave ! 

[The Senators rise in tumult and cry out : 
Go, enemy and parricide, from Rome! 

Cic. Expel him, lictors! Clear the Senate House! 

[They surround him. 
Cat. [Struggling through them.] I go, but not to leap the 
gulf alone. 
I go; but when I come, 'twill be the hunt 
Of ocean in the earthquake ; rolling back 
In swift and mountainous ruin. Pare you well ! 
You build my funeral-pile, but your beat blood 
Shall quench its flame. Back, slaves 1 [To the lictors.] I will 
return ! 
[He rushes through the portal ; the scene closes.] 



LESSON CCXXXI. 

THE DRUNKARD AND HIS DOTTLE. S. W. SETON. 

1. Touch thee ! No, viper of vengeance ! 
I '11 break thy head against the wall. 
Did you not promise, ay, 

To make me as strong as Samson, 
(I '11 wring thy villanous neck !) 
And wise, wise as Solomon ; 
And happier than the happiest ? 

2. But instead of this, villain ! 

You 've stripped me of my locks ; 
Left my pocket empty as a cuckoo's nest 
In March ; fooled me out of all my senses ; 
Made me ragged ; made me wretched, 
And then laid me in a ditch. 

3. Touch thee ! sure as there 's vengeance 
In this fist, I '11 scar the moon 

With thv broken scull ! 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 567 

4. Thief ! villain ! robber ! murderer ! 
Or, all in one, Destroyer ! 

Give me back my meek and quiet spirit, 
And take again, Hot anger, Envy, 
And deep malice : these are thine ! 
I '11 give thee them with usury ; 
Take, take it all ; take fury ; 
Hatred, and deep-rooted and unsated 
Malevolence ; great usurer of souls ! 

5. Give me the first pure breath of health. 
I gave thee ; and take this corruptible 
Breath of pestilence that burns my vitals : 
Ay, give me the soft sweet peace 

Of mind thou torest from my bosom ; 

It was unwillingly surrendered ; Thou 

Extortioner ! I did not give it thee ; 

Thy wily, stealthy smiles insnared 

It from me, give it me ; give it me to-day, and take 

Thine own remorse that will not 

Let me rest ; a barbed arrow 

Steeped in aspen gore ! 

6. Promise 
No more, thou vile deceiver ! 
Thou unchained truce-breaker ! 

Ah ! how thou smilest, and would parley ; 
It will not do ; we part to-day. 

V. Columbia's sons should banish all 
Their chains ! yet, I would 
Speak kindly to thee, nor triumph o'er a 
Chained foe. 'Tis best to part in 
Friendship, my ancient, 
Quondam friend. But thou 
Shalt never kiss my lips ! nor 
Will I cast a fond or longing 
Look behind. 



568 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

8. Poor, harmless 
Creature ! when untouched ! 
Thy Goliath spear, mailed 
Coat, is oaughl Against the 
Pebble and the sling of self-denial ! 

9. Come, I war not with a vanquished 
Enemy : I'll do thee jrel a kindly 
Berries, and will Bet thy prisoned 
Spirit free; and should not friends 
ThllS part with mutual flow 

Of right good spirit I 

10. I bid thee now 

Farewell, thou fair and false! 
And thus a- \. iv friends we part; 
Thy spirit flowcth thus, [dashing it doion.] 
And mine henceforth flows pure from a temperate heart. 
On Freedom's Day, let meek-eyed temperance reign, 
And they that would be free break every chain. 



LESSON CCXXXII. 

AWAKE, ZION ! BIBLE. ISAIAH LII. 

1. Awake ! awake ! put on thy strength, Zion ! 

Put on thy beautiful garments, O Jerusalem, the holy city! 
For henceforth there shall no more come into thee 
The uncircumcised and the unclean. 

2. Shake thyself from the dust; 
Arise, and sit down, Jerusalem ! 
Loose thyself from the bands of thy neck, 
captive daughter of Zion ! 



COBB'S SPEAKEK. 

3. For thus saith the Lord : 

Ye have sold yourselves for naught ; 
And ye shall be redeemed without money. 



4. For thus saith the Lord God, 

My people went down aforetime into Egypt to sojourn there, 
And the Assyrians oppressed them without cause. 

5. Now, therefore, what have I here, saith the Lord, 
That my people is taken away for naught ? 

They that rule over them make them to howl, saith the Lord ; 
And my name continually every day is blasphemed. 

6. Therefore, my people shall know my name : 

Therefore, they shall know in that day that I am he that doth 
Behold ! it is I. [st 



7. How beautiful upon the mountains 

Are the feet of him that bringeth good tidings, that publisheth 

peace ! 
That bringeth good tidings of good ; that publisheth salvation ! 
That saith unto Zion, Thy God reigneth ! 

8. The watchmen 

Shall lift up the voice, with the voice together shall they sing : 

For they shall see eye to eye, 

When the Lord shall bring again Zion. 

9. Break forth in joy, sing together, 
Ye waste places of Jerusalem ! 

For the Lord hath comforted his people, 
He hath redeemed Jerusalem. 

10. The Lord hath made bare his holy arm 
In the eyes of all the nations ; 

And all the ends of the earth 
Shall see the salvation of our God. 



570 COBB'S SPKA K B K. 

11. Depart ye ! depart je ! go ye out from thence. 
Touch no unclean thing ; 

Go ye out of the midst of her ; 

Be ye clean that bear the vessels of the Lord. 

12. For ye shall not go out with haste ; 
Nor go by flight : 

For the Lord will go before you ; 

And the God of brae] shall be your rere-ward. 



LESSON CCXXXIIL 



GENUINE FRIENDSHIP AND MAGNANIMITY. DIONYSIUB, PYTHIAS, 

AM) 1 ) A M O N . FE MELON. 

Dionysius. Ama/.inc ! What do I Bee? Tt is Pythias just 
arriyed. It is indeed Pythias. I did not think it possible. He 
is come to die, and to redeem his friend I 

Pythias. Fes, it ia Pythias. I left the place of my confinement 
with no other views than to pay to heaven the vows I had made; 
to settle my family concerns according to the rules of justice ; and 
to bid adieu to my children, that I might die tranquil and satisfied. 

Dio. But why dost thou return ? Hast thou no fear of death ? 
Is it not the character of a madman, to seek it thus voluntarily ? 

Py. I return to suffer, though I have not deserved death. 
Every principle of honor and goodness forbids me to allow my 
friend to die for me. 

Dio. Dost thou, then, love him better than thyself? 

Py. No ; I love him as myself. But I am persuaded that I 
ought to suffer death, rather than my friend ; since it was me 
whom thou hadst decreed to die. It were not just that he should 
suffer, to deliver me from the death which was designed, not for 
him, but for me only. 

Dio. But thou supposest that it is as unjust to inflict death 
upon thee as upon thy friend. 



COBB'S SPEAKER. 571 

Py. Very true ; we are both entirely innocent : and it is equal- 
ly unjust to make either of us suffer. 

Dio. Why dost thou then assert, that it were injustice to put 
him. to death instead of thee ? 

Py. It is unjust, in the same degree, to inflict death either on 
Damon or on myself ; but Pythias were highly culpable to let 
Damon suffer that death which the tyrant had prepared for Py- 
thias only. 

Dio. Dost thou then return hither, on the day appointed, with 
no other view than to save the life of a friend, by losing thy own ? 

Py. I return, in regard to thee, to suffer an act of injustice 
which is common for tyrants to inflict ; and with respect to Da- 
mon, to perform my duty, by rescuing him from the dangers he 
incurred by his generosity to me. 

Dio. And now, Damon, let me address myself to thee. Didst 
thou not really fear that Pythias would never return ; and that 
thou wouldst be put to death on his account ? 

Da. I was but too well assured that Pythias would punctually 
return ; and that he would be more solicitous to keep his promise 
than to preserve his life. Would to heaven that his relations and 
friends had forcibly detained him ! He would then have lived for 
the comfort and benefit of good men ; and I should have the sat- 
isfaction of dying for him ! 

Dio. What ! does life displease thee ? 

Da. Yes ; it displeases me when I see and feel the power of a 
tyrant. 

Dio. It is well ! Thou shalt see him no more. I will order 
thee to be put to death immediately. 

Py. Pardon the feelings of a man who sympathizes with his 
dying friend. But remember it was Pythias who was devoted by 
thee to destruction. I come to submit to it, that I may redeem 
my friend. Do not refuse me this consolation in my last hour. 

Dio. I can not endure men who despise death, and set my power 
at defiance. 

Da. Thou canst not, then, endure virtue. 

Dio. No : I can not endure that proud, disdainful virtue, which 



572 COBB'S SPEAKER. 

contemns life ; which dreads no punishment ; and which is insen- 
sible to the charms of riches and pleasure. 

Da. Thou seest, however, that it is a virtue which is not insen- 
sible to the dictates of honor, justice, and friendship. 

Dio. Guards, take Pythias to execution. We shall see whether 
Damon will continue to despise my authority. 

Da. Pythias, by returning to submit himself to thy pleasure, 
baa merited his life, and deserved thy favor; but 1 have excited 
thy indignation, by resigning myself to thy power, in order to 
save him: be satisfied, then, with this sacrifice, and put me to 

death. 

Py. Hold, Dionysius! remember it was Pyihiaa, alone, who of- 
fended thee : 1 >uui<>n could not. 

Dio. Alas ! what do I see and hear ? where am f ! How mis- 
erable ; and how worthy to be so ! I have hitherto known nothing 
of true virtue 1 have spent my life in darkness and error. All 
my power and honors are insufficieni to produce love. I can not 
boast of having acquired a single friend, in the course of a reign 
of thirty years. And yet these two persons, in a private condition, 
love one another tenderly, unreservedly confide in each other, are 
mutually happy, and ready to die for each other's preservation. 

Py. How couldst thou, who hast never loved any person, ex- 
pect to have friends ? If thou hadst loved and respected men, 
thou wouldst have secured their love and respect. Thou hast 
feared mankind: and they fear thee; they detest thee. 

Dio. Damon, Pythias, condescend to admit me as a third friend, 
in a connexion so perfect. I give you your lives ; and I will load 
you with riches. 

Da. We have no desire to be enriched by thee ; and in regard 
to thy friendship, we can not accept or enjoy it till thou become 
good and just. Without these qualities, thou canst be connected 
with none but trembling slaves, and base flatterers. To be loved 
and esteemed by men of free and generous minds, thou must be 
virtuous, affectionate, disinterested, beneficent ; and know how to 
live in a sort of equality with those who share and deserve thy 
friendship. 



-COBB'S SPEAKER. 573 

LESSON CCXXXIY. 

" FORGIVE." BISHOP HEBER. 

1. 0, God, my sins are manifold ; against my life they cry ; 
And all my guilty deeds foregone, up to thy temple fly : 
Wilt thou release my trembling soul, that to despair is driven ? 
"Forgive" a blessed voice replied, " and thou shalt be forgiven" 

2. My foemen, Lord, are fierce and fell ; they spurn me in their 

pride ; 
They render evil for my good ; my patience they deride : 
Arise, my King, and be the proud to righteous ruin driven ; 
" Forgive" the awful answer came, " as thou wouldst be for- 
given." 

3. Seven times, 0, Lord, I've pardoned them ; seven times 

they've sinned again ; 
They practise still to work me wo, and triumph in my pain ; 
But let them dread my vengeance now, to just resentment 

driven ! 
" Forgive" the voice in thunder spoke, " or never be for- 



LESSON CCXXXV. 

TRIBUTE TO WASHINGTON. WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON. 

1. Hard, hard indeed, was the contest for freedom, and the 
struggle for independence. The golden sun of liberty had nearly 
set in the gloom of an eternal night, ere its radiant beams illu- 
mined our western horizon. Had not the tutelar saint of Colum- 
bia hovered around the American camps, and presided over her 
destinies, freedom must soon have met with an untimely grave. 
Never can we sufficiently admire the wisdom of those statesmen, 



574 C OBITS STEAK EK. 

and the skill and bravery of those unconquerable veterans, who, 
by their unwearied exertions in the cabinet and in the field, 
achieved for us the glorious revolution. 

2. Never can we duly appreciate the merits of a Washington, 
who, with but a handful of undisciplined yeomanry, triumphed 
over a royal army, and prostrated the lion of England at the feet 
of the American Eagle. Hi- name, so terrible to his foes, so wel- 
come to his friends, shall live for ever upon the bright 

the historian, and be remembered with tin- warmest emotions of 
gratitude and pleasure, by those whom be has contributed to make 
happy, and by all mankind, when kings, and princes, and nobles, 
for ages, shall have sunk into their merited oblivion. 

3. Unlike them, he needs not the assistance of the sculptor or 
the architect to perpetuate hi^ memory : he needs do princely 
dome, no monumental pile, no stately pyramid, whose towering 
height shall pierce the stormy clouds, and rear its lofty head to 
heaven, to tell posterity his fame. His deeds, his worthy deeds, 
alone have rendered him immortal ! When oblivion shall have 
Bwept away thrones, kingdoms, and principalities; when every ves- 
tige of human greatness, and grandeur, and glory, shall have 
mouldered into dust, and the last period of time become extinct, 
eternity itself shall catch the glowing theme, and dwell with in- 
creasing rapture on his name ! 



LESSON CCXXXVL 

8PEECH OF HANNIBAL TO HIS S0LDIER8. LIVV. 

1. On what side soever I turn my eyes, I behold all full of 
courage and strength ; a veteran infantry, a most gallant cavalry ; 
you, my allies, most faithful and valiant ; you, Carthaginians, whom 
not only your country's cause, but the justest anger, impels to bat- 
tle. The hope, the courage of assailants, is always greater than 
of those who act upon the defensive. With hostile banners dis- 



COBB'S SPEAKEE. 575 

played, you are come down upon Italy ; you bring the war. 
Grief, injuries, indignities, fire your minds, and spur you forward 
to revenge. 

2. First, they demand me ; that I, your general, should be de- 
livered up to them ; next, all of you who had fought at the siege 
of Saguntum ; and we were to be put to death, by the extremest 
tortures. Proud and cruel nation ! every thing must be yours, 
and at your disposal ! you are to prescribe to us with whom we 
shall make war, with whom we shall make peace ! You are to set 
us bounds ; to shut us up within hills and rivers ; but you, you are 
not to observe the limits which yourselves have fixed. 

3. Pass not the Iberus. What next ? Touch not the Sagun- 
tines ; is Saguntum upon the Iberus ? move not a step towards 
that city. Is it a small matter, then, that you have deprived us 
of our ancient possessions, Sicily and Sardinia ? you would have 
Spain too ? Well, we shall yield Spain ; and then, you will pass 
into Africa ! Will pass, did I say ? this very year they ordered 
one of their consuls into Africa, the other into Spain. 

4. No, soldiers, there is nothing left for us but what we can 
vindicate with our swords. Come on, then ; be men. The Ro- 
mans may with more safety be cowards ; they have their own 
country behind them, have places of refuge to flee to, and are. 
secure from danger in the roads thither ; but for you, there is no 
middle fortune between death and victory. Let this be but well 
fixed in your minds, and once again, I say, you are conquerors. 



LESSON CCXXXVII. 

STANZAS. R. H. WILDE. 

1. " My life is like the summer rose" 
That opens to the morning sky, 
But ere the shades of evening close, 
Is scattered on the ground ; to die ! 






576 COBB'S SPKA IvKk. 

Y.-t on the rose's humble bed 

The sweetest dewg of night aw shea, 

A-> if she wept the waste to - 

Bui none shall weep a tear for me! 

2. Mv lift- ■ lik€ the autumn leaf 

Thai trembles in the moon's pule ray ; 
It- hold is tVail, its date is brief, 

I; itless, and soon to pass away! 
thai leaf shall fall and fade, 
The parent-tree will mourn its .shade, 
Tne winds bewail the 1- afless tree; 
But none shall breathe a sigh for me ! 

3. My life is like the prints, which 

Have lefl on Tampa's desert strand; 
as the rising tide shall beat, 

All trace will vanish from the sand; 
Yrt. as if grieving to effi 
All vestige of the human race, 
On that lone shore loud moans the sea; 
But none, alas ! shall mourn for me ! 



THE END. 



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